Absolute Pin
by Drago Van Hellsin
Summary: After finding a flier about the chess club training sessions; Jim, being Jim, decides to go. Altogether, uninterested in honing his already adequate skills, he stays for one reason only: the intriguing half-Vulcan faculty member... Kirk/Spock
1. Attraction

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

**Another Academy story! Let me know what you guys think! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! **

Absolute Pin

Chapter 1

"Are you gonna eat that?" Piercing blue eyes lock onto the forgotten half of my replicated egg-salad sandwich.

Sighing, I put down my Xenopsychology book and absently flip through my notes from the morning lecture. "Dammit Jim, you've gotta kick these mid-morning, mid-term binges of yours." Rolling my eyes, I try to ignore the sudden motion of Jim snatching my half-eaten lunch with the speed of a starving man at a Kentucky buffet.

"C'mon Bones, you know it's only for a couple of days after cramming. Now, fork over your coffee and put it on my personal tab." Jim grins.

"Remind me why we're friends again?" Grumbling, I shove my coffee cup across the mess table towards the human garbage disposal.

"Because you charmed me with your conveniently placed upchuck." He tosses me that vulgar grin of his that always has women drop their morals along with their clothes. All the while, drinking my coffee, no less.

"Didn't we draw even with that debt during your last run-in with peanuts?" Gathering my books and stuffing them unceremoniously into my messenger bag, I get a garbled sarcastic laugh from around the last two bites worth of my sandwich from Jim's loud mouth.

"Ah, you'll still love me when I'm sixty-four, right Bones? You just pretend to put up with me."

Frowning, I follow Jim out into the main hall of the recreational building, "Why sixty-four?"

Heaving a long sigh, Jim weaves through other students with a bored expression, "It's a song, Bones…"

"I don't listen to the racket kids call music these days."

"Yeah, well maybe you should. The fact that you don't only shows your age." Scanning the old flier board hung up along the east wall, Jim issues a short bark of laughter and plucks a tasteful page from its peg, waving it before my face, "Look, the answer to all your problems!"

Grabbing the page out of my face, I scan the bold seller line and pixilated picture advertising: 'Learn excellent mating skills!' Rolling my eyes, I con the flier off onto Jim, "They mean _check_-mating, idiot. That's for the chess club." I start walking towards the dorms again, "And you know I can't play chess."

"Well, maybe you should have learned." Jim catches up to my side.

"Right, I highly doubt a strategic game of chess could have saved my marriage, Jim. The only thing that could have helped would be a game of poker, then at least I could have had a shot at winning back half my life." I snap sourly, wishing I'd missed Jim's little jibe:

"Or lost your bones…"

Turning, I glare at my friend and roommate, considering whether to lock him out of our room or not.

"Sulu has the override code, so don't even bother." Jim gloats, swaggering past me into our dorm room.

* * *

Oh yeah, awesome, who needs an alarm clock when you could just wake up to a view like this every morning? Granted, then I'd always be late to class, or better yet, a no-show.

Twin, supple orbs of womanly flesh fill my first morning view this lazy Saturday. Which totally beats seeing a scruffy, grumbling Bones in briefs and a beard a million-to-one.

What's this one's name again? I could swear she told me somewhere in the short conversation between her second dackery and my third beer… Turning over, I lean past the edge of the bed and sweep my hand along the floor until I feel the hot leather skirt she wore last night under my fingertips. Rummaging through the pockets, I find her student I.D. card and squint at the writing, muttering, "Janice?"

"Mnn?"

The blond stirs next to me and I quickly shove her things back onto the floor. "Heeey…Janice." I plaster a smile on my face as she snuggles into my chest. What kind of name is Janice, anyway? Foregoing an awkward post one-night-stand coddling, I pull out the excuse that actually puts Bones to good use every now and again, "Um, my roommate-"

And that's all I can get out before Janice is fully awake, "Oh, oh my god, yeah! I'm _so_ late to class, I'm so dead!" She almost kneels on my nuts in her haste to get out of bed and gather her clothes.

Propping my head up in one hand, I appreciate the show as she panics, "Crap, I'll see you around then?" She initiates the awkward dance of kiss to cheek and lips before shoving her feet into her high-heels.

"Mhmm." Is my noncommittal answer and Janice is so ready to get out of my room that she doesn't even press further, just as most don't.

"Thanks for last night, it was-" she snatches up her bag and backs towards the door, gesturing with her hands like a game of charades, "amazing!" She finally blurts like it's an add-lib.

"Any time." Folding my arms behind my head, I watch and give a little wave as Janice slips out into the hall at last.

Not two seconds after the door closes does it open again to reveal an annoyed Bones. "Christ, have you no shame? Please tell me you at least made it to the correct bed this time?"

"Of course Bones, your precious sheets are completely unKirk-ified." Smirking, I jab a finger at the disgruntled doctor's desk chair, "Can't say the same for your chair though."

"My God man, I leave for one night to be with my daughter and what do I come back to?" His voice fades as he shuffles into the bathroom for his trusty can of Lysol.

"What's that?"

He returns to spray the hell out of his desk chair, "I return to find you've mated on every available surface like a rabbit." He pauses, scowling, "Now, rabbits are cute. This ain't cute, Jim."

Best to get him off this jealous topic, "How's the spoiled princess?"

"Oh, as argumentative as ever, barely let me have a moment alone with my own flesh and blood."

"No, not Dragon-Lady, I meant Joanna."

Bones gives me that 'look' he always uses when I diss his ex-wife. "Jo's alright, she's going through a new phase."

"What is it this time, a new favorite color that ends up costing you a fortune to re-do her room?" I haul my ass out of bed, walking in the nude to our bathroom to take a well-needed leak.

"No, much worse, it's unicorns now." Bones grumbles from his desk, no doubt starting a long day of studying for retake exams.

"You mean those magical horses with the horns on their heads?"

"They aren't real Jim, they're a fantasy creature. And who ever created them obviously didn't have a young daughter of their own."

Turning on the shower, I catch a peek at the clock, "Why didn't they call them unihorns?"

I hear Bones laugh, "I think there would be some upset parents with a name like that for a kid's toy." There's a grunt of disapproval, then, "Close the damn door, Jim."

After washing up, I wipe the foggy mirror clear with a piece of paper only to find it's that chess flier. Peeling it away wet, I piece it back together and read the details. Saturdays from noon to four? Hell, why not? I haven't played chess since high school. And back then, it was only to get Macy Roberts naked. Needless to say, I got pretty good at it. And who knows, maybe there's a prize for the best player? Sure is better than sitting around here watching Bones pull his fucking hair out and ultimately passing out on his textbooks. So I dry off and dress myself in jeans and a plain T-shirt.

"Where're you going off too?" Bones mumbles from his vigil over the chaos of his desk.

"I'm going to go brush up on my mating skills." Smirking, I pull on my shoes.

"Oh God, leave some ladies for the under-dog."

Laughing, I leave Bones to his own self-destruction.

It's ten past noon when I finally wander into the Rec. building, snagging a banana from the mess hall. It's not too hard to find this chess club thing since it's drawn quite the crowd already.

"He beat him in only five moves, he cornered him! It was amazing!" Some beatnik cadet crows at the entrance.

Peeling my piece of fruit, I take a bite and meander farther into the room, listening to the excited voices around me. There are a few tables from the mess hall erected helter-skelter with some pairs of chairs and chess boards. But all the commotion seems to be at the center of a group of uniforms and muttering students. I push my way through until I can see a nervous cadet playing a Vulcan on a 3D chess board.

"Who's that?" I mutter to the young kid I've seen in my Engineering class. Some foreign kid with a Russian accent who doesn't look a day over fifteen, supposedly some genius or something.

"That is Professor Spock from Astro-Physics. He is playing cadet Vilson."

"Who?"

The kid blinks, "Vilson." He repeats.

Oh, he must mean _Wilson _but his accent totally slaughters the surname. Now I recognize the staff member playing Wilson, I have his class this semester and I've heard about the horrors of his assignments. I've also heard about the flight simulator test graduates are required to take that he designed and programmed to simulate the Kobayashi Maru disaster. It's also kind of hard to miss the only Vulcan currently at the academy, especially when the sea of students practically part for him like royalty.

Wilson slumps with relief as the cool, dispassionate voice announces, "Checkmate."

I stare at the tri-dimensional board and pick apart the last few moves. This guy is good, but is it really fair? I mean, he's Vulcan, they can do this shit in their sleep practically. The only way to beat a logical player is to use illogical strategies.

Several of Wilson's buddies pat him on the shoulder as the guy slowly relaxes again, "Thank you, Sir. Good game." He makes the awkward mistake of extending a hand to shake his Vulcan opponent's and a sudden uncomfortable and pitying silence descends over the crowd.

Professor Spock practically gives him the stink-eye, glancing up from reorganizing the game pieces and ignoring the human gesture, "You are welcome, Cadet Wilson." He replies humorlessly.

I take another bite of banana, glad I decided to sniff this place out. This is way better than the reality feeds! Hiding a smile by chewing, I watch an uncomfortable Wilson retreat and retract his forgotten pally hand shake.

As Professor Spock leans back in his seat, a hush falls over the onlookers as confidence and courage is rallied for another challenger. Clearing my throat, I edge forward and the foreign kid grabs my arm with wide eyes, "He'll crush you, Kirk!" He hisses under his breath.

Shaking him off, I shrug, "The worst he can do is hurt my pride." I chuckle, "What is this, an execution?" Dropping into the folding chair opposite the Vulcan, I raise my banana as greetings and grin as a perfect brow arches my way.

"Certainly not, Mr. Kirk. This function is merely a competent diversion; a chance for players to exercise and expand their strategic skills."

Jesus, did he just spout computer at me there? Should I even try to make an answer to that? "Uh, okay then." I manage with a sliver of intelligence.

"White has the first move, Mr. Kirk." He deadpans.

"Yeah, I know…" Ignoring the almost imperceptible sigh in the Vulcan's tone, I let one of my knights descend a level on the multi-level board. It's an amatuer move but I'm not really paying much attention to the game. Instead, I watch my opponent hesitate, look at me as if to reassess my skill, before making a counter move. His strategy is practically by the book and I throw another useless move out there to see if I can upset his groove by confusing him.

Finally, after the third suicide move, Spock decides to bite, "Mr. Kirk, if you do not intend to play seriously and with the intent to learn, I suggest we continue this game at a later time when you are sufficiently prepared."

He's pretty long-winded, isn't he? "I am serious." Grinning, I finish my banana and stare at the Vulcan across the table from me, not intending to be the first to look away. No doubt, he's picked up on the unspoken challenge for he hasn't' even blinked once yet!

The foreign kid is at my side again, crouching by my chair and whispering to me, "Professor Spock holds the title of Grand Master in the National Chess League! You von't win, Kirk!"

Frowning, I don't let my gaze stray as I tilt my chin and ask, "What's your name again, kid?"

"Pavel Chekov."

"And how old are you, Chekov?"

The kid actually beams, "Sewenteen."

"Right." I drop the banana peel onto his curly-haired head. "Get rid of that for me, 'kay?" Leaning forward, I crack my knuckles and move one of my pieces in towards Mr. Spock's bishop. "Let's play."


	2. Candidate Move

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Wow, I'm so happy my story has picked up a little following! I'm SO jazzed.

A special thanks to Faerex, Veglma, Liongirl11 and joniskpelare! You guys are my first reviews and made me extra happy!

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated! **

Absolute Pin

Chapter 2

My first impression of Cadet James Kirk would hold little sway in a court of law, but if I were asked to recount my judgments I would have to describe Mr. Kirk as simply impulsive, incorrigible and perhaps overconfident. His first move during our chess game can only be labeled as strictly amateur and I hesitated to even answer his knight with my rook. But in order to avoid a scene, I engaged in a normal game and proceeded until I had accumulated a good three of his pieces.

Since he had not even paused to look away from me, I could gauge that he was merely testing my patience. Perhaps this Mr. Kirk is like the others I have come across who hope to provoke me into what they would deem an emotional response. But I will not give him that satisfaction. His blue eyes, I am adverse to admitting, do set my defenses a little upon the edge.

The young Russian known as Chekov seems to know my opponent better than I, though I am aware I have him this next semester in my class. His behavior towards Cadet Chekov hints a subtle challenge and I illogically keep his stare. "Indeed." I reply as he steps up his game and engages in a simple attack. So far, it is an improvement to his previous moves, but a far cry from some of the students I have played so far.

"Do you always make that face when your opponent makes a move?"

His voice draws my attention and I actually have to make the conscious decision not to look up from my concentration, "I know not of what you are referring too."

"It's almost like you're silently mocking me…" Mr. Kirk grins, which I can see from my peripheral vision.

"I assure you, Mr. Kirk, I am doing no such thing." After a silent moment of contemplation, I take another one of his pawns.

This seems to give Kirk some pause for he frowns and rubs his chin, leaning back in his chair and engaging in one of those most human of habits of jiggling his right leg up and down in a nervous fashion. Finally, he plucks up his last rook and moves it into a formation I recognize as a rather loose interpretation of the Alekhine's Gun where the queen backs up two rooks upon the same file. If I were to stand up and look straight down through the levels of the chess board, I would notice that he had set up his previous supposedly mindless moves to leave room for this very play. Fascinating…

I feel Kirk's piercing gaze locked upon my face, most-likely scanning for any reaction I may make. "I seem to have underestimated you, Mr. Kirk." I scan the board and refuse a smile that tugs at the corners of my lips when I see a pawn left in en prise, or undefended. He did not have enough pieces left to correctly make this formidable formation, but the two rooks backed by his queen is certainly a main concern.

After taking the game pieces left undefended at files g2, h1 and h2; I produce a counter measure as a last shot defense against my king after Kirk takes my queen piece. Quite interesting that this James Kirk, an upshot cadet within the academy, was hiding such skills in chess. But truly, he is quite a coffeehouse player, or someone who puts great risk in their style and sets a form of trap for their opponent. Indeed, he trapped me, and I lean back in my seat as he announces with a great degree of smugness, "Checkmate, Mr. Spock."

The anticipatory lull in the crowd around us breaks and there is a collective cheering as students all reach out to alternate back-slaps and handshakes as Kirk stands to accept his win with a wide grin. After analyzing the board, I deduce that the only way Mr. Kirk could have won would have been through less than honest means. I have used the Alekhine's Gun formation several times myself in previous matches, I am well acquainted with it's insides and outs. But a Vulcan is not a sore loser, and I am merely intrigued to understand the most baffling game play I had just witness.

"Oh, uh," Kirk turns towards me, the first trace of embarrassment I had ever seen in him making the human flush, "that was a good game, I learned a lot. Thanks." Politely, he extends the Vulcan solute towards me, "It took a hell of a long time, but I haven't played in years. That was real fun."

Years? He hasn't played in years? "Indeed." I am conscious that my tone may have been a little clipped, but I harden my jaw and collect my chess pieces and board. It is already nearly four and I have no more time for another challenge. And after that show, since that is what it ultimately was, I could use a good moment of quiet away from loud thoughts and voices.

A hand reaches into my line of vision and before I can protest, Mr. Kirk has my 3D chess board in hand, "Here, let me help you, it's the least I can do."

"The least of which you are not required to perform, Mr. Kirk."

"You're mad…"

My brows arch, for he is far more perceptive than I would have taken him to be. But my annoyance is illogical and easily repressed, "Of course not. You have beaten me in a game of chess, and whether your win was of honorable stakes is not-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey," He takes my arm and I have no choice but to stop, "Are you saying I cheated?" His eyes are humanly wide with incredulity.

"I am saying that the manner in which you pulled the Alekhine's Gun could not have been done with the amount of pieces you had left to your color."

"I think you're a sore loser…" Kirk's eyes narrow, "Alright then, how about a rematch."

Turning, I start out into the hall only to have Kirk follow me with my chess board. "That would be unwise."

"You're just afraid you'll lose again." He is goading me, but my chances of shaking him off is slim as he has half my chess game in his hands.

"No, I merely have very little time."

"Your class doesn't start up until Monday of next week, that's a week worth of vacation time."

I find his argument to be sound, "Very well, I will see you here next Saturday."

"Oh no, that's not gonna work on me, Mr. Spock." He jogs along my quick stride through the courtyard and stabs a finger at me, "You'll play other guys so you won't have to play me."

"I believe you are mistaken in thinking I wish to avoid you, Mr. Kirk."

"Aren't you?" He seems genuinely surprised.

"But as I have already given you one game, it would be a play of favoritism if I were to ignore other requests to accept another game with you." I stop outside the teacher's dorms and hold out my hand for my chess board.

But Kirk pulls it out of my reach, taking a step back and positioning it behind his back. "Nope, you and I will play a rematch after chess club hours."

"Do not be immature, Mr. Kirk, my chess board please." I purse my lips.

"And it's Jim."

"Pardon?" My brows lift a fraction, "We are hardly to first name basis as of yet."

"Mr. Kirk was my dad, I prefer Jim. Or James, if you're going to be all stiff here." He eyes me from head to toe in nearly a lecherous fashion. I shift uncomfortably from foot-to-foot, folding my arms across my chest. "All you need is the accent and you'd be a perfect guy from Britain. I'll just call you Smithers."

"I fail to see the correlation between my speech patterns and that of an individual from Earth's European state Britain."

"Wow, really not a funny bone in your body, huh?"

He presses past me towards the stairs but I catch his arm, "Enough Mr. Kirk, my chess board, please."

"Not until you agree to chess at your place, Friday at seven, and that you'll call me Jim. Or James, at _least_!"

After making a quick review of our conversation so far, I am displeased to find he has managed to put me in a hard situation. He has something of mine as a bargaining chip, as I had not intended to happen. But what other choice do I have other than pulling rank? Besides, this man truly does play an intriguing game of chess. "Very well, Cadet James." I allow him the small win but keep a shred of the upper hand.

His lips make a peculiar twist that can only be described as shrewd, "Well, I guess that's as good as it's going to get then. See you Friday." He extends the hand with my chess board and I reach to take it but he does not relinquish his hold and a miniature war is avoided as I do not wish to break the game.

"Mr. Kirk-"

"Ah, hey, see? You're doing it again." The human actually has the perplexing ability to frustrate me. Perhaps I have waited too long to submit to meditation this evening.

"Heh, I'm just messin' with ya." Kirk lets go and slaps a hand up against the side of my arm in the human gesture I have frequently witnessed to be used between 'bros'.

Arching a brow, I turn to watch the anomaly of James Kirk get away with a smugness no Terran should legally possess. Curious…

* * *

"So, do you know him?" I lean against the front of Bones' desk, blocking his light to make it nearly impossible for him to ignore me and continue reading.

The weary doctor heaves a sigh and shoves his chair back from his desk, crossing the room to our mini-fridge he had had to help me smuggle into the dorms the first day. After a whole lot of excuses for why we were lugging an appliance in a box labeled miscellaneous on anti-gravs, we had been allowed to keep the thing and it had it's uses.

"Who, the over-grown elf?" Bones uncaps a beer of suspicious origins and takes a long swig.

"Isn't it a little early?" I squint up at the clock on my nightstand.

"It's happy hour somewhere." He grunts in reply, slumping into his desk chair.

"And yeah, the elf, but his name is Spock." Perching on the corner of his desk, I swipe the stylus off Bones' data pad so he can't pick it up and ignore me with more cramming.

"Professor Spock? What about him?" Bones is being particularly dense this evening…

"We have his Astro-Physics class this coming semester, remember?"

"Oh, don't remind me." Bones groans, leaning his head over the back of his chair, "They've been telling' me that I won't leave that class without a migraine every afternoon and that I should arrange my schedule accordingly. Seems like a good warning to me."

"Well hey, if I get a foot in the door with the teacher, maybe I could get us a one-up with our grades." I finally cave and get a beer for myself, squinting at the label. Is that Klingon?

"Jim, Vulcans don't take bribes…" Bones gives me that 'you're an idiot' look so he doesn't actually have to say it.

"I'm not talking bribes, Bones. I'm talking something bigger."

He stares at me, his eyes widening after a moment, "Oh no, you're not getting me mixed up into any of your crap. I don't want to leave this place in a body bag or the first shuttle headin' for a penal colony!"

"Bones," I pat his cheek, "if this works, you won't have to do anything. Just be glad you met a guy from Iowa named James T. Kirk."

"Somehow I doubt that," Bones knocks my hand aside. "What're you thinking you're going to do, become his best pal?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Jim, Vulcans don't have 'pals', they have test subjects and computers. So unless you're planning on donating your organs or becoming an android, I don't think you've got even a chance."

"Oh yeah?" I gloat with the best of my glee, "Then this android having a very promising chess game on Friday night with a certain Vulcan professor is all for nothing?"

"He's just playing you in the Rec. center, isn't he?"

"No, I swayed him to hold a private rematch at his place." I gulp down half my beer but keep my eyes on Bones, ready to witness his jaw brush the floor.

"You mean you bullied him." Bones sighs, "That's not going to get me an A."

"No, I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be…"

"You didn't get him drunk, did you?"

"Can you get a Vulcan drunk?" My brows rise in interest.

"Not on your life," He grumbles. "How badly did you lose?"

"Excuse me? I beat 'im!"

This made Bones choke on his beer, leaning over his lap and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he spluttered, "You wh-what?"

Smirking, I reach out and rub the beer into the carpet with my foot, "I beat him at chess."

After silently regarding me with suspicious eyes, Bones crows, "Shit, you cheated!" He slams his beer down onto his desk, for once without a coaster. "You idiot, you don't cheat a Vulcan and you _don't_ bribe a Vulcan. Where the hell were you in Xenolinguistics? They don't even _have_ those two words in their language!"

I shrug, "I got some Freshmen to do my homework in that class, I don't remember much about it other than a few Klingon swear words."

"You would." Bones rolls his eyes. "But now you're going to get the only Vulcan in the academy to hold a fucking vendetta against you in chess! I'm screwed, I might as well drop that class right now…"

"Oh can it, Bones, don't be so melodramatic." I laugh as he starts doing that neck rubbing thing when he gets stressed out. "Relax Bones, it'll be okay. He's just playing hard to get."

"What? Oh sweet Jesus, the last time I listened to you when you told me to relax, I got a mouth full of Romulan ale and an arm full of Orion woman." He presses his cold beer up against his forehead to ease a headache that must be coming on.

"Hey, she didn't ask to marry you, and in my books, you should have been happy as hell."

"Jim, to you, happy is hell. You consider a broken nose, a constant beer buzz and a scank on your wank to be a good date." He punches my arm.

"Hey, no harm no foul."

"No foul, indeed." He mutters sourly.


	3. Counterplay

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

I want to thank Requisite for his/her insights and suggestions. I fixed the line-break problem in the previous chapter so y'all won't get confuzzled. I thank you guys for all the complements and encouragement! I hope my story continues to bring smiles!

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 3

Friday night at ten to seven, I showed up at the teacher's dorms and looked up Professor Spock's room number. He lived on the second floor with the apartment on the end, probably to cut down on the noise level. I had debated whether to bring along a six pack or something, but when I cleaned out the fridge of it's stock, Bones started complaining.

"Where're you makin' off with al' that beer, Jim-boy?" He groused, looking like hell after his first simulator test. His hair stuck up in odd directions and his harsh, southern drawl clued me in to just how well that test went. So I left the beer behind, glad I wouldn't have to live through one of his bad luck binges that was probably impending this evening. I'd probably come home to find him passed out on his desk in a puddle of his own tears. Bones wasn't what you would call a jolly drunk.

About to rap my knuckles on apartment eight, I blink in surprise as it opens a crack to reveal a brown eye peering at me past a security chain. "Uh, hey, bad time?" I manage my best grin filled with Iowa sunshine.

The door closes, I hear the chain being removed, and then it opens wider for me to step through, "Not particularly."

"How did you know I was here, I didn't even knock?"

"I could hear you breathing outside my door." I watch him exit into what must be the kitchen, surprised to see he's not wearing the regulation Starfleet uniform for professors. Instead, he's donned a brown knit sweater with long sleeves and a turtle neck, even if it's about ninety outside.

"Do you require something to drink, Mr. Kirk?"

Huh, back to the old man name then, "Sure, whatever you're having." Turning, I wander past the foyer and scan the living room. It's rather tasteful, decorated with artifacts that could only be from Vulcan, and what looks like an African dance mask on the wall. A low shelf runs the length of one wall, holding a collection of books and trinkets that look about as old as the leather-bound books on my own shelf. Reaching out, I trail a finger along the ridged spines, peeking into a brass urn that has remnants of what looks to be incense at the bottom.

"Please do not touch that." A voice admonishes me from across the room.

"Sorry." Smirking, I stretch my fingers out towards some kind of statue and the warning comes again:

"Or that."

I move on towards a low table positioned between two couches, noticing a book sitting there and reaching to pick it up.

"Or that."

"Can I touch anything here? The carpet?" I splay my hands out helplessly, glaring at the Vulcan over the kitchen countertop.

"Please do not be impertinent." Spock settles two cups and a strangely shaped teapot upon a tray and carts it out to a table erected before a door leading out to a balcony. I notice he's already set up the chess board there and so I take a seat on the black side of the board.

Spock arches a shapely brow at me, "You wish to play without a handicap?"

"You can go first this time, since I won our last match." I thought I was being generous, but Spock must not think so.

"What is this?" I take an experimental sip of the hot beverage, licking my lips.

"Earl grey tea."

We sit down with the 3D chess board and Spock makes his first move. After a little while, I know I'm outmatched against the Vulcan, but I throw out some random moves in attempts to throw him off his game.

Once the tea is gone and the silence is deafening, I can't take it anymore, "So what made you join Starfleet?"

There's that brow again, "What encourages any being to enter Starfleet?"

"A sense of adventure, I guess. Space; the unknown?" I grin cheekily, "A chance to boldly go where no man has gone before. In your case, no Vulcan."

Spock takes my pawn with his rook, "Indeed, that is the reason most choose a career path in Starfleet."

"But you didn't answer my question. Is that why you joined up?" I grimace as he takes another one of my pieces with some cool ease nothing I do can ruffle.

"I joined Starfleet because it interests me."

"The stars and planets?"

He nods, contemplating my latest move of Bc5.

"Your parents must be pretty proud to have their son be the first Vulcan in Starfleet?"

He doesn't speak until he makes his play, "My mother takes pride in whatever I do."

I pause, sensing some unspoken taboo here that he's trying to skirt. "What about your dad?"

He actually hesitates at this, growing still like some deer caught out in the open by an armed hunter. The muscles in his jaw contract and I tap my first two fingers against the wooden table.

"My father is a wise man of high position on Vulcan." Spock relents, frowning when I take one of his pieces left unguarded.

"I know, isn't he an ambassador or something?"

"Yes." Brown eyes won't meet mine, focusing instead upon the nearest level of the chess board.

"Was he hoping you would take his place as ambassador?" I hedge, having a feeling that this topic isn't going to come to fruition.

As I'd suspected, Spock doesn't make any effort to reply to my last question, indicating instead with a tilt of the brow, "You are not focusing on the game, Mr. Kirk. You have sacrificed too many pieces and I estimate that in approximately three moves I will have you checkmated."

"Oh." I stare dumbly at the board, realizing that I'd zoned out at some point and played on autopilot as I tried to draw conclusions to Spock's personal life. "Guess you win then."

"Indeed." Spock pushes back from the table and carries the tea tray back into the kitchen. I hear the faucet running a moment later and I let myself look around the room again. And like before, my gaze falls on the book left out on the coffee table.

"What makes you read about the 'Complexities of the Human Nature'?"

The water stops and the sound of clinking china can be heard, "I am an alien to this planet, no matter my heritage. I have had the opportunity to study human cultural habits but some of your race's attributes still puzzle me."

"Like what?"

"For example, why Terrans find it necessary to kiss with the lips. I am aware humans are most commonly p.s.i. null. But the human mouth contains more bacteria and germs than the cleanest of house hold bathroom appliances."

"Oh, that's easy." I laugh, "We kiss with our lips not only because we don't know of any other way, but because it feels nice." Shrugging, I disobey his previous order and pick up the book to thumb through the pages, scanning the ones he has ear-marked.

"I suppose that is logical, but does it not make a person prone to passing disease?"

"Well, sure…but mono can't kill you if you treat it." Smirking, I take the glass of water he offers me. "Besides, it's usually worth it anyway." Putting the thick, brown leather book aside, I return to the chess table, "I think I'm ready for a rematch."

"You wish to play again?" Spock expresses surprise by raising both brows this time and I grin.

"You bet, it's what I came here for. But this time, I'm white."

"Certainly."

So in this fashion, we continued. I would meet Mr. Spock two or three times a week and we would play chess. Well, more like Spock would teach me some strategies and I would clarify some of his questions about human social, cultural and physical complexities.

I found that when Bones and I started his class on Monday, there was absolutely no favoritism brought on by my slow friendship with the professor. If anything, he practically ignored me. Bones was apprehensive about my ability to get him an easy A, but after a little arm twisting, I got him to lay off on the snide comments. He usually shut up when we had to actually do the Astro-Physics homework, which I'm not going to lie, was absolutely the worst fucking load of homework I'd ever had in my life. Spock has a thing for five-thousand word essays and lab time. It's like boot camp high school style, really. But instead of doing laps and climbing ropes, you get the same adrenaline rush when he calls on you in class with an expectant look. It doesn't help that he has ears like a fucking bat or something and can pick up little side conversations and make you wish you didn't have a mouth to speak with.

One evening, we had finished our customary chess game and Spock had been rather silent through the whole exchange. I had let him have his silence, as he didn't seem to be bothered by it, until the moment he muttered, "Checkmate." I had lasted longer this time and actually gotten a fair amount of his pieces this time. My previous win must have been a fluke or something, he had to have really underestimated me. But now that he knows I'm capable of Alekhine's Gun, I can hardly use it again. They didn't name Spock the Grand Master of the National three-dimensional chess association for nothing! I have yet to make a win on him again, but I often take pleasure in stumping him with my strategies. He has admitted that the way I play is hard to read and predict.

"Well, Spock, how about another round? Or should we retire for tonight?" I take a swig of my coffee, having noticed that Spock had purchased some according to my tastes since our games had become a regular thing.

"I do not wish to play another game tonight, Jim." He turns his cup around and around on its coaster.

"Hey, you've been rather quiet tonight, sullen even. Is something wrong?" Slouching in my seat, I set down my now empty coffee cup.

Spock shifts in what I read to be discomfort, "I received a transmission from my mother this afternoon."

"Oh, hey, that's great!" I beam, "You haven't seen her since, what…New Years?"

He nods once in assent, "Indeed, it will be pleasing to meet with her again."

"Then what seems to be the problem? It's not like your place is a wreck or anything," I look around the spotless living room and kitchen, which is exactly in the same pristine shape as I had seen it my first day here a month ago.

"My father has decided to accompany my mother to Earth this time."

"Oh." The words hang in the air like an oppressive diagnosis and I grimace, "Well, hopefully your mother will act as a buffer zone, right?" I knew Ambassador Sarek and his son didn't really get along so well, since Spock had chosen Starfleet over what Sarek had wished for him. At least, that is what I have gathered over the past few weeks of imposing on the Vulcan.

"Indeed." But he doesn't seem so sure about it.

"If you ever need an escape from them, you know where to find me. I wouldn't want to forget everything I've learned at chess or grow out of practice." I grin at the arched brow directed at me.

"They will only be present for three days as they are passing through to another planet my father has business on. Hardly not enough time for you to fall out of good graces with Caissa."

"With who?"

"The goddess of chess, Jim."

* * *

I went to visit my parents from the Embassy myself the day they arrived, following a desire to not want to 'fuck things up', as Jim would certainly say. I wore my uniform with a sliver of illogical pride, knowing my father would find it distasteful, but my mother would be charmed. As, indeed, she was.

Upon opening the door to their room, my mother quietly beamed out at me from the doorway, holding her arms up for me to step into, enfolding me in her gentle embrace.

"Spock, you look so well. I hope you're looking after yourself." She absently dusted off my shoulders, "Oh! Come inside." She led me into their attending room where my father was just rising from meditation.

"Welcome to San Francisco, Father."

"It is good to see you, Spock."

Swallowing, I carefully keep a neutral face as the disappointment settles over my shoulders with a familiar weight as he makes the subtle refusal to acknowledge me as his offspring.

It was a tiring evening, though I enjoyed my mother's gentle rants about the heat ruining her roses and the progression of her garden within the greenhouse at home. I find myself keeping up my guard about my father, only answering direct questions. Before I am aware, three days have passed and I am subdued as I see my parents off. My mother is quite contrite, expressing her wishes to visit again soon and spend more time with me. I assure her she is not neglecting any such duty in seeing me, allowing her to give me one final embrace as my father looks away at the emotional display.

Upon leaving the Embassy, I had barely enough time to retrieve my notes for class before I was due in the auditorium. Truly, I should have meditated, but to be late would be illogical and irresponsible. So I was not ready for the full battery assault by James Kirk when the excited human came jogging after me as the lesson ended.

"Hey, haven't heard from you since that last chess game three days ago, how were the 'rents?" He inquires, his voice light and bright like the weather. It grates upon my defenses and causes me to be short.

"My parents were well, but your concern was hardly necessary Mr. Kirk." I lengthen my strides in hopes he may decide to continue this conversation at a later time.

"…So it's back to 'Mr. Kirk' again, huh?" It is nearly impossible to miss the open disappointment in Jim's voice and I stop abruptly as he expresses his very human need for touch by taking my shoulder in a conspiratorial manner.

Turning, I slip out from under his hand and keep a cautionary distance from him, careful not to project my own feelings onto him as I had accidentally done before.

Blue eyes frown at me, twin pools of confusion, "Did something happen?"

"I would appreciate it if you would make a conscious effort not to invade my personal space, Mr. Kirk."

"Uh, sure, do you want to talk about it?" He offers, changing his textbooks from one arm to the other.

"No." A simple refusal could not possibly deter such a determined individual.

Jim Kirk scampers after me, his regulation shoes clattering on the tile floors loudly as he catches up to me once again, this time grabbing my arm to spin me around.

"Mr. Kirk-" I start in a stern, if a bit loud, voice.

"Fine," he raises his hands in surrender, "you don't have to tell me any details, but promise me something, okay?"

Clenching my jaw, I consider, "What is it you wish me to promise?"

"That you won't cut into any other cadets like you just did me…" His mouth forms a wry smile, "Calm down somewhere…then call me for a game of chess."

I nod, "Fine."

/ Author's Note: The next chapter will hold some secrets revealed and some awesome banter! =]


	4. Initiative

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

I want to thank Requisite for his/her insights and suggestions again! You all have her to thank for keeping me talking through my depressing hour and a half of writers block. Also anyone who submitted a review saying they loved this story! Thank you! =3

Okay, so there isn't really any secrets in this one this time, I changed my mind. But there is banter! =D It's short but funny!

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 4

"_Dammit_ Jim, I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker!" Bones hollers in our dorm room one Thursday evening. He looks like one of those blood-hounds on the scent trail of a badger, both equally disgruntled. And he's kind of got the jowls to match at the moment. What started his little rant and is the excuse for his haggard appearance is simple and can be summed up with one name: Spock.

Funny thing was, I didn't look so hot either. It had been a full week since he'd blown up at me in the hallway. Well, if you could call his Vulcan steely stare blowing up. He hadn't called for a chess game and he was definitely avoiding me. Like, to the point of leaving the classroom in pairs just so I wouldn't have the chance to talk to him. He's taken a liking to Uhura, it seems, which kind of makes me jealous. I mean, I got to him first and she hasn't acknowledged any of my smooth moves since I met the wench. Either she's playing hard to get, or he is. No, I _know_ Spock is.

"Stop yelling at me, I'm just as _knee deep _in this shit too." I toss my Astro-Physics textbook off my bed, gaining little to no satisfaction at the dull thud it makes on the carpet.

Bones paces to the whiteboard we stole from storage to draw our diagrams on. It's covered in colored scribbles in both illegible doctor's scrawl and a 'don't-give-a-shit' chicken-peck handwriting. "It's all your _damn_ fault, you trying to buddy up to the _Vulcan_. Should have known better than to get involved with you! Buddies indeed, his version of friends must be one _hell of a circus party!_"

"Bones, shut up, you're not making any more sense than the equation." Rubbing my temples, I have to chant a mantra to keep myself from strangling the poor bastard.

"The fuck-wad made us lab leaders, Jim! _Lab leaders!_ Do you know what we're required to _do_ as lab leaders?"

Leaping to my feet, I shove Bones back a few steps, growling through my teeth just to get it through his thick skull, "_Don't call him a fuck-wad Bones, you don't even know 'im!_"

"Well _obviously_, neither do you!"

"I'm working on that." Rubbing my neck, I pace in a different direction.

"Yeah, well you've been 'working' on it for nearly two months now, I think it's time to either lay off or-"

"I'm trying Bones, but your stupid-"

"Oh no, you can't blame _this one_ on me, Jim-boy! I've been an idle bystander, just as you told me I would be. At this rate, I'm going to _fail out of his damn class!_" He swiped his hand across the whiteboard in frustration, wiping away half our work.

"Oh, nice going _asshole_, look what you've done now!"

"_We weren't gettin' anywhere anyway, Jim!_" He fumes, scrubbing his face with his hands, leaving remnants of whiteboard marker all over his cheeks and forehead.

A dead silence fills the room until the walls nearly burst outward, the ceiling crushing us like a cardboard box collapsing. That sounds kind of nice at the moment, actually. "Don't worry Bones, I'll step it up a notch."

"Oh yeah? What can you possibly do short of givin' the guy a _blow job_, Jim? And _that_ won't even work, he's _Vulcan, they don't do casual sex_!" He was ranting again, making that face like he'd just seen his mother naked. "Or bribes or any of your other _stupid ideas!_"

"He's half human, Bones, anything's game at this point. I don't believe in no-win scenarios."

This seemed to shut his big, yapping mouth for a minute. But the reprieve wasn't nearly as sweet as I'd hoped and it hardly lasted very long, "What're you talkin' about, Jim? You're not seriously considering…?"

I shrug, "What's the worst that can happen. Besides, he's actually pretty damn sexy. Don't tell me you're homophobic as well as spacephobic."

"Do you know how many gays end up with herpes, syphilis, gonorrhea, human papilloma virus-"

"_God_ Bones, he's not going to jump me and sodomize me in a back alley somewhere! It'd be one date maybe, and that's even if I can _get him to agree to it!_"

"You're serious, aren't you?" Bones stared at me like I'd grown a penis out of my forehead.

"Yeah, I'm always serious about this shit, Bones. And it wouldn't be all that bad."

"Since when? You've always been a lady's man since I've known you." He looks me over like maybe he'd missed a giant sign stapled to my chest labeled 'homo'.

"Since _you've_ known me. Who knows what I did in high school, right?" Hell, I'll tease him, it's better than listening to him stammer and get all squirmy. Actually, that's pretty great shit too.

"Ah hell, promise me this at least so I won't become the one responsible for cleaning up after you when all you can do is the duck waddle."

Rolling my eyes, I concede, "What?"

"Use a _damn_ condom. You're not invincible." He growls.

"Damn Bones, you mean I'm really not Superman like my mom told me?"

"Don't get cheeky, _asshole_."

* * *

"Hey, Jim, what's with that face? You've been wearing it since the beginning of this week." Hikaru Sulu, a friend and classmate in my Interspecies Ethics class, bounces down the stairs of the auditorium after me on light feet. Next to him is that red-headed Russian kid, Cherenkov or something, nearly attached at the hip with the Japanese cadet. I've found that if you want Sulu at a poker party, you'll be getting a little talkative runt with him.

"Yes, you haf been rather depressed Mr. Kirk!"

"Oh, not you too." Groaning, I turn towards the little Russian bundle of joy, "For the last time, call me Jim, Cracow."

He blinks, glancing at Sulu, "It's…Chekov."

"Right, right, sorry." Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shrug it off and try to commit the strange surname to memory. Noted and logged away.

"Do you need a round of drinks?" Sulu grins enthusiastically, seeming pleased to have a reason to chug down some illegally imported Romulan ale. Where he gets the stuff is his business, some pretty shady business at that.

"Yeah, sure, lets do that." Flanked by my two new drinking buddies, we plod down the stairs while they try to grill me for information.

"Get a bad grade on an exam? A simulator test?" Sulu starts.

Chekov bounces off that comment with his own barrage of questions, "Family troubles? Wery bad luck vith pool?"

I shake my head, gesturing for them to stop. But we only make it to Sulu's door before the Asian hits the nail on the head, "Maybe the ladies aren't treating you well lately?"

Shaking my finger, I swagger into his dorm room and drop my bag by the door, "I think you missed your calling, Sulu. Either you would make a great interrogator or a slap-shot psychiatrist. Now where's that alcohol you promised?"

Chekov knelt by a low chest under his bed and thumbed in the code to release the locks, raising the lid and pulling out a bottle of his choice stuff and what I recognized as Romulan ale from the distinct blue hue.

"Holy shit, are you a professional smuggler? What's the drinking age in Russia?"

"There ees no drinking age, jas lots and lots of wodka." Chekov beams, sitting down at the round table next to me.

"What do you want first, Jim? I wouldn't recommend them both at the same time though." Sulu warns, "You'll wake up with someone else's underwear and a tattoo on your lower back."

"Oh yeah? Do you know from experience?"

Sulu turns and lifts the back of his uniform shirt where a bold script depicts some Japanese kanji over the Japanese flag on his lower back.

"Whoa-ho-ho! What's it say?"

"'Like father, like son.'" Sulu grimaces, pouring me some Romulan ale, probably hoping that I'll get trashed and forget seeing that.

"What made you get that?"

"I told you, I was drunk, I don't remember." He laughs.

"You could probably get that removed, you know…"

Chekov and Sulu exchange a glance and Chekov won't meet my eyes, but I can tell he's smirking, even before he covers it by knocking back some vodka.

"Vell, who ees zis girl?"

"What makes you think there's a girl?" Coughing over my drink, I now remember why I don't drink this stuff very often. Burns like snorting lemon juice.

"Oh c'mon, we weren't born yesterday. Pasha may be young, but he's a small-boy genius." Sulu chuckles, sipping his own glass of ale.

"Vhat does she look like?" Chekov prompts, propping his feet up on the empty chair across from him.

"Oh, dark hair, dark eyes…tall." I pause, foregoing Sulu's warning and taking a shot of vodka from the Russian kid. "Thin, kind of shapely actually, nice body all-in-all." I snort, describing Spock. He is rather tall and lean, but he's got some nice upper arm muscles and he's not scrawny in a gross way or anything.

"Do we know her?" Sulu asks.

"Oooh," smirking, I spin my glass around on the table top, "not like I do."

"She sounds like a babe." He grins lasciviously, pouring me another glass from his choice stock.

"So vhat ees za problem?" Chekov asks, his accent seeming a little heavier than before.

"Oh, she's just playing a little hard to get, that's all." I snicker around the rim of my glass, getting used to the burn and starting up a steady pace. There's already a pleasant buzzing in my head and the tension that's been building in my shoulders has melted out through my feet. "She's been avoiding me since her parents came 'round for a visit."

"Vait... tall, dark? Are you dating Miss Uhura?" Chekov's eyes have expanded to the size of softballs.

"Ha!" Sulu chokes on his drink with his outburst and I glare at him. Serves him right, I could get her if I really tried.

"No," I take another shot of vodka, finding it to be less of a punch to the gut, "she's too-"

"Sophisticated?" Sulu interjects with a jaunty smirk on his face.

"-uptight, I was going to say." I glare at the Asian kid.

"Oh, da, she ees kind of tense, but wery nice!" Chekov beams, "She ees my Xenolinguistics tutor!"

"Yeah, but in my opinion, she could use a good lay. Maybe that'd loosen her cheeks." Sulu and I exchange another round of Romulan ale.

"So what're you going to do 'bout this mystery girl then?" He watches me swirl my drink.

"Oh, I'll probably just woo her with some cliché junk and tell her a few sob stories. Got any ideas, kid?" I look to the Russian who's supposedly all-knowing about women all of the sudden.

"Vell, I vould take her to nice restaurant and buy her some'ting nice."

"You're accent's showing there." Smiling, I clap a hand onto the boy's shoulder, "But I don't think a show of my meager funds'll make 'er change her mind." Huh, I'm starting to slur my own words, maybe it's time to lay off the ale.

"Then maybe something significant, like something special." Sulu offers.

"I'll wear down her defenses somehow."

"Vill we get to meet zis girl?" Chekov's flushed cheeks almost seem to reflect the light in the room and I rub my eyes, slamming my empty glass down for another shot of vodka.

"Not on your life, ya damn romantic." I laugh, ruffling his curls.


	5. Focal Point

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Okay, so things are starting to slowly take a turn in this chapter! Rated for language. Thanks for all the support you guys, you're the best! =D F.Y.I, this will probably be my last post for a little while, I'm going on vacation. But by the end of next week, hopefully, there will be a chapter 6! Thank you for your patience!

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 5

"Ugh…" Some idiot with a phaser must have stunned me over and over again last night, I think I have nerve damage. How many glasses of Romulan ale did I _have _last night? I don't know, I lost track after one. The vodka didn't help either, I guess Sulu wasn't kidding when he said the two beverages aren't the best of friends. No kidding, more like they had a bar brawl in my brain and this is the morning after when the bartender finally comes up from under the counter, trembling. Someone's foot is in my face, smells like the backstreets in china town.

What woke me up anyway? I could probably lay silent in my grave right now, fill in the dirt even. "_Huuuurgh_." Squinting, I smack the Russian foot out of my face and smack the alarm clock off the nightstand where it's making that stupid beeping noise. Whoever invented those pieces of crap should be forced to suffer a hangover surrounded by the damn things.

Yawning, I slowly sit up so I don't cause my own head to spin. Dang, it does look like a bar brawl happened in here. All the chairs are turned over and the table is propped up on it's side in one corner like a fortress. Sulu's curled up behind it with his arms over his head. "Jesus…" Rubbing my eyes with my fingers, I glance over at the red-head sprawled on the mattress next to me. We were laying in opposite directions and Chekov's got some weird drawing on his face. It looks like someone drunk off their ass drew it on for him, in sharpie no less. That's gonna be hell to get off… and he's going to want to get it off, for who wants to go to class looking like the black-eyed bandit?

_Shit! Class!_ Leaping off the bed, I smack my head on the top of the bunk. "Cock!" I grimace, my head pounding. "Ow!" I notice my shoes are on the wrong feet and I sit down to switch them out, looking around for my bag and finding it by the door where I'd left it. Looking around the dorm room, I noticed neither of the two lazy butts had woken up. Rolling my eyes, I waved, "Thanks for the rough night, guys."

Closing the door behind myself, I jogged up the hall, turning and walking backwards as a pair of girls sauntered past. "Well, hello ladies!" I give them the finger-wave and the bright, crooked smile. But instead of flashing me their own twin, white smiles, they cover their mouths and laugh at me, turning the corner as if to get away from me. Frowning, I shrug and adjust my uniform shirt, typing in the code to my dorm room.

As I had thought, Bones was already gone. I was _so_ late to class, but I needed a shower. Tossing my book-bag onto the bed, I jog into the bathroom and start the sonic shower since I don't have time for a traditional one. Grumbling, I shuck my clothes and turn towards the sink to brush my teeth. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I freeze, turning my head to get a better look at my face. Some smartass has shaved off my eyebrows and taken a brown pen to draw on new ones, but in a Romulan arch. "…mother fucker." I arch one in a mirror image Spock-annoyance. "I'm gonna kill those foreigners." Scowling, I decide it's better to go to class _with_ eyebrows than _without._ So I leave them on my face and jump in and out of the shower in under three minutes. Combing my hair back, I hop into a clean uniform and chug some orange juice from the carton in the fridge.

The science wing is, of course, the farthest from the dorm rooms. Probably for personal safety for when things explode. And usually that's quite a comfort, but now it's just an inconvenience. I have to run to class, and by the time I get there, I only have about twenty minutes left of Spock's lecture.

Slipping into the auditorium through the back door, I sneak down the stairs while Spock's back is turned and locate Bones a few rows down. But who am I kidding, out-smart a Vulcan after attendance? Not possible.

"Good of you to join us, Mr. Kirk." Spock speaks as he pulls up files from the touch-computer on the wall.

Sighing, I walk normally down the stairs and plop into my seat, nodding to Bones, "Hey, how we doin'?" The idiot just stares at me like I've lost my marbles.

Spock has turned to face the class and find me in the crowd and my new appearance throws him off, causing him to stand there like a statue holding a laser pointer in one hand. He arches a brow in what I take to be curious disapproval. I match the expression with a smirk and he raises both brows at me. "You will stay after class, Mr. Kirk."

"Sure thing." I mumble, reclining in my seat. All eyes have turned to me and I pretend not to see them.

"Anyway," Spock continues on to what he had been teaching, taking a moment to reorganize his lecture in his head. "In comparison to a quasar, a pulsar is a much smaller mass object, much smaller in radius and not a black hole, but a neutron star. It "failed" to become a black hole during its birth due to a supernova explosion of some single star."

I zoned out through the rest of Spock's lecture, unable to pick up at the end and just write notes about it randomly. I'll have to get a copy from Bones later. At noon, the parting bell sounded and everyone stood.

Bones turned towards me and stared some more, "You look like a goof-ball, Jim. What the hell did you do to yourself? Do you think this is going to help you in your quest?" He motions towards my upswept brows.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea. Either Sulu or Chekov drew them on last night when I was too drunk to think better of it."

"So that's where you were last night?"

"Yeah. Believe me, I regret it."

Bones glances at the front of the room and smirks, "Well, good luck, I think you've insulted the Vulcan." Chuckling, he grabs his things, "See ya later."

In the empty auditorium, Spock busies himself with closing down the computer systems and pulling together all his personal class materials.

Sighing, I realize he's not going to say anything unless I come down to his level. So I plod down the stairs and brace my hands against the front of his desk, tilting my head to get a look at his face.

Straightening, Spock folds his arms behind himself and observes my new look, "As I have stated prior to this moment, the complexities of human pranks surpass my understanding. If this was intended as an insult, it is forgiven and as long as you do not return here in the same fashion, all is forgotten."

"You don't like them?" I waggle the arched brows up and down and lean against his desk, "Don't you think they set off my good looks?"

"They are not a very…logical asset to your physique."

"Ouch." I press a fist to my chest and twist it like a knife. "Come on, you don't really mean that?" I grin lasciviously, leaning an elbow on the edge of the desk and folding my other hand over my forearm.

Spock stacks his textbook and personal data pad together, tucking them under his arm and starting towards the door. "Just have them removed, Mr. Kirk."

I catch up to him with a few long strides and reach past him as he opens the door, leaning a hand against it to close it, "I thought I told you to call me Jim." I murmur by one of those irresistibly pointed ears.

Spock actually stiffens, whirling around to face me and seeing the mistake of his actions as that puts our faces close together. Leaning as far away from me as he can, he shifts his things forward as a sort of makeshift barrier. Dark brown eyes zero in one mine and I can practically see the calculations whiz by, "A first name basis while in a public setting is far from appropriate between a professor and a pupil." He deadpans, raising the hand with his books and using them to swipe my hand off the door, turning to leave.

"Than where _would_ an appropriate setting be? Say, maybe dinner?" Grinning, I brace an arm against the edge of the door as he opens it.

"Give me one logical reason why I should further inflate your pretentious self-admiration by agreeing to share a meal with you, Mr. Kirk?"

There's a little spark in those brown eyes and I smirk. He's actually enjoying this banter, "Because you hardly ever leave the campus, you wouldn't want people to think you're a hermit, would you?"

He tilts his head in thought, turning his eyes towards the ground, "I do not value the personal thoughts one might have about what I do with my free time."

"Well, I'll just keep asking you, you know." I chuckle, "I'll wear you down eventually, why not save us both the trouble. I'll pick you up around six on Saturday?"

"I will be busy."

"I thought Vulcans didn't lie." I frown, feeling the drawn on brows shift over my eyes. Spock glances at them, giving a little twitch of his own eyebrow in answer to the 'illogic' of my expression.

"I have not lied, I am merely hypothesizing what I may be doing Saturday at six p.m., cross-referenced with what I did last week. I am making the educated guess that I will be busy."

What a mouth full, I think I caught all that, "What do you have to do on a Saturday, wax your mustache? Come on, my treat even."

Spock unconsciously placed a hand to his upper lip, then seems to catch his slip-up and grows even more stiff with logic, "Good afternoon, Mr. Kirk." He draws the door shut, which I was still leaning heavily on, causing me to stumble awkwardly. But I don't care, I didn't miss that little green flush on his cheeks.

* * *

Mr. Kirk is beyond bothersome. From the moment he had stepped into class late with his little joke on his face, I knew I would be in for a long battle of avoidance. I was not wrong to guess how determined and persuasive Jim would be, but I was not sufficiently prepared for his words to take action immediately. Again, I have underestimated his perseverance and ability to get his way. When I addressed my new problem to Uhura over lunch in the mess hall, she indulged in a long lecture about how vexing and disgusting he was. Her describing words were, most prominently, 'asshole' and 'cocky'.

"Do you want me to get him to leave you alone?" She asked, making as if to get up and do so at this very moment.

I shake my head, "Mr. Kirk is nothing I cannot handle on my own terms."

"Oh, believe me, it won't be on your terms. He has this infuriating ability to turn the tides in his favor regardless of karma or deities."

I cock my head to the side, "Fascinating."

* * *

Perhaps I should have allowed myself to accept her assistance, though she is in her self-defense class at this moment and couldn't possibly help me. Jim is outside my apartments and has been 'camped out' there for fifteen minutes, thirteen seconds.

"I know you're in there, Spock, you never leave the campus and you don't have class for another three hours." He speaks through the door and I take another quick glance out the privacy hole, jerking my head back as a crystal blue eye stares back at me.

Suppressing a sigh, I open the door but keep the security chain in place, "The answer is still 'no', Mr. Kirk."

"Alright, fine. But will you agree to a game of chess then?"

I weigh my options, knowing for certain that he has not given up, only changed the subject. "Not at this time."

"We used to play a lot, now you don't want to anymore? Is it something I've done?" He frowns and I cannot help noting the raw, red skin of his forehead where he, no doubt, scrubbed the first layer of flesh off. Instead of arched brows, he has little blond fuzz coming in again.

"No, you have done nothing. I only wish to be alone."

"Okay." Jim nods, tapping the toe of his shoe on the cement of the hallway, gently kicking the wall beside my front door. "But don't you want to get out of your stuffy apartment?" He hedges, "It's a nice day out, you could meditate in the sun." His smile mimics the weather he speaks of.

"There is no area of the courtyard I may engage in meditation that is quiet enough for such an exercise."

"Not the courtyard then," he shrugs in dismissal, "I know a place by the North wall nobody goes to." Bouncing on his toes, he rocks back onto his heels and completes this circuit three times. "I could show you, if you're interested."

I was interested, I had not found any such place sufficiently quiet here on campus other than my apartment that suited my needs for meditation. If Jim had, what reason would I have to refuse such an offer. "I will get my shoes." I close the door, but not before witnessing a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

Jim takes me through the courts and past the administration building, where I haven't had the time or the reason to explore on my own. The west wall connects with the north from where we stand now, but Jim turns me east and points towards a gap between the north gate and it's stones.

"I used to sneak in that way." He grins, obviously trusting me not to relay this information to any other staff members at the academy. Crossing the road leading onto campus, he leads me farther and farther east, passing multiple buildings. Up against the wall, there is a shed, then the ground slopes downward to meet the corner stone of the campus boundary zone. A large oak tree stands proud and tall, shading the wall and casting a long shadow back the way we had come.

"It is…quiet." I observe aloud.

"Yeah, I thought you would like it here." Jim shrugs. I expect him to bring up our argument again, to try and sway me into having dinner with him. But he doesn't.

"Thank you, for showing me this," I motion at the clearing around us.

"My pleasure." He beams.

/ Author's Note: Ho, ho, ho! He's like a stubborn clam you have to pry open. =P And incase you were wondering what Chekov had drawn on his face, it was a circle around his left eye and a handle-bar mustache. xD


	6. Bind

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Hey y'all! I'm back from a horrible vacation spent reliving the horrors of camping! We actually got home a day early…but I've been sleeping. Now I'm back from hibernation and ready to roll! Thanks for all your kind words, you guys! I'm glad you're all enjoying my story! =D

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 6

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" I snap, stalking into Spock's office waving a print-out attached to the latest Astro-Physic's test with a good ol' fashioned paperclip. I slam it down onto his desk, scowling when he doesn't even flinch up at me. Instead, Spock just keeps working, typing away at his consol with those slender fingers of his.

"The meaning is simple, your grade suffered from the results of a test your skills were found to be lacking in to complete sufficiently." He deadpanned at me, turning his attention to a data pad and picking up the stylus to scrawl some text across the screen.

"This is the first test I've nearly flunked in your class, Spock!" I argue, finally getting some eye-contact from the Vulcan as he looks up at me from under heavy lashes, arching a brow and tilting his head in that curious manner of his.

"Perhaps you would have done better if you had taken the time to study the material more?" He actually taps the end of his stylus against the edge of his chin and I have to remember I'm mad and glare at him just to keep from finding it to be a turn on.

"I _did_ study, I knew those five chapters of the textbook like the back of my own _damn hand!_" I stab my finger into the test and print-out of my grades, sealing my words with a punch from the side of my fist into the desk.

Spock leans back into his chair and sets the stylus to his data pad down onto it's magnetic strip. "What are you insinuating, Mr. Kirk?"

"What I'm suggesting is that your grading system is screwed up! Look, look at this-" I fume, snatching up my printed test and tossing it into his lap, taking a moment to calm down and walk around the office, my hands folded over my head.

I can hear him shuffling through the pages, clear his throat, and wait for me to turn back towards him. "There are no problems, Mr. Kirk, your answers simply were not adequate to receive full marks on this exam. Perhaps you could not achieve an academic focus in class during the test as you were too engrossed with your acute ascertainment of my posterior while clearing the data board."

I'm angry, even angrier now that he's actually managed to point out a logical reason for my flunking grade. But it's not my fault that the Starfleet regulation trousers just happen to fit the Vulcan like they were made for his perky, little ass. Sighing, I drop into the chair across from him and drop my forehead onto the edge of his desk with a loud '_thunk_.' I know I'm being melodramatic, but it's only because he's totally right. I do remember sitting there twiddling my stylus between my fingers and conjuring up all these rather erotic images of the Vulcan's ass and what I'd like to do to it. God, he looks good in tight briefs…

Spock interrupts my long groan of internal defeat, "It would seem we have a problem, Mr. Kirk."

"That's the understatement of the year…"

"Pardon?" He quirks a brow at me.

"Oh, and what do you care?" Bracing my elbows on his desk, I run my fingers through my hair and yank at the dirty-blond strands in frustration. "You've got other students in your class, one failing, flailing student doesn't mean squat to your perfect teaching record."

Spock folds his arms over his desk and leans towards me, tilting his head to see my face, which is tucked behind my arms like I'm cowering from radiation, "All my students' educations are my responsibility. If they are struggling in my class, it is up to them to come to me for help and I will try to assist them in understanding. Astro-Physics is not always an easy subject to grasp for some."

I narrow my eyes, "You're the king of understatements today…"

He just flashes me an exasperated brow before leaning back in his chair again, "I fail to see how you can blame me for the grade you have received through fair means. It is hardly my fault that your wandering interests came between you and your exams."

"Exam." I corrected, "Just _your_ test. I aced all my other ones." Rubbing my temples, I kick my feet up on the edge of his desk and mutter, "Maybe I should've taken your test out in the hall or something."

Spock picks up his data pad and brushes my feet off his desk, "Indeed."

"When's the retake?"

Both brows make a show and Spock shakes his head, "There is no retake, Mr. Kirk. I do not give retakes for my exams."

"What!" I catapult out of my chair, grasping the corners of the desk, feeling my eyes bug out of my head and my awesome GPA slipping through my fingers.

"I believe that if there is a valid problem that led to the botched test, there may be exceptions. However-"

"You don't think this is a valid problem? For all you know, this could be chronic!"

He stares me down, "However," he continues in a harder tone, "your inability to draw information from your studies and put it into answers for essay questions is hardly a valid excuse for your behavior. Did you not spend forty-five minutes of valuable class time leering from your seat, Mr. Kirk?"

"_God, stop calling me that!_" I fling up my hands and ignore the disapproving look at my emotional outburst. I'm human, goddamnit, I can get bitchy whenever I fucking want.

"You find the formal address of your surname to be vexing? Fascinating…" Spock turns his chair as I stalk behind his desk to face him head-on. "Could it be you harbor conflicting feelings towards the name 'Kirk' due to your fathers preceding legacy in Starfleet? Do you feel overshadowed by your father's achievements?" He taps the tips of his fingers together, elbows resting on the arms of his seat.

My eyes narrow as my blood boils, "Don't psychoanalyze me, you pointy-eared bastard." I growl, knowing I can't manhandle the Vulcan, but feeling the intense desire to try. I settle for just invading his personal space, slamming my hands down on the arms of his chair and watching him squirm. Brown eyes fix on me defiantly but he makes no move to get away, his feet planted on the floor. I lean in towards him, the chair tilting backward under my added weight, "I'm not overshadowed by my father, I'm James T. fucking Kirk and no one can take that from me."

"Your attempts at intimidation are not only illogical, but futile. You cannot antagonize me into giving you a better grade, Mr.-"

"_It's Jim!_" I bark, "James, _Jim! _How hard is it to call someone by their _first fucking name!_"

The Vulcan's eyes narrow in a calculating expression, "I prefer a last name basis as our relationship is strictly business, Mr. Kirk."

"You want a piece of me, Vulcan man?" I'm nearly to the point of jumping down his slender, little throat.

His eyes shift to the vein becoming prominent on my forehead, "That would be most unwise on your part as Vulcans possess a stronger physique five to one."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Not of the type you are accustomed too." His eyes seem to smirk up at me, even though his mouth is pressed into a grim line.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frowning, I force my fingers to stop contracting on the arms of his chair before I break something.

"Is it not common knowledge you routinely participate in recreational sports while inebriated?"

Okay, he's thrown me, "What?"

"The accepted term among your age group would be a 'bar brawl'." He picks up his stylus and presses the end into my shoulder, forcing me back some and treating me like a contaminated specimen. "A form of antagonized pass-time that requires intoxication and no skill, just fists and a fuzzy state of mind?"

"I know what you're talking about, but I haven't gotten into a fight since Freshman year, how-"

"Vulcan hearing hath its advantages." He interjects smugly.

"Heh," I chuckle, straightening and running a hand through my hair, "You know, you'd better be careful. Next time Bones drags me home from the bar, I might just request a side trip to vomit in your shoes." Scowling, I snatch my test up from the desk and trash it, watching as it incinerates. It was only a copy, after all.

"You're incorrigible." He sighs softly, returning his attention to his work, "Now get out of my office before either of us says or does something to regret."

"Ha, I don't usually take orders, but since you're fucking sexy, I'll play along this time." I swagger to the door and step into it's sensor field, pausing in the door just to torture him, waiting for the notorious arched brow of impatience before leaving him in peace.

* * *

"I thought I'd find you out here." This time, a Jim Kirk appears without resentment. Nonetheless, his presence ends any hopes of continuing my efforts in meditation, as even his breathing is a distraction. He does not have to speak to be loud…

"You are out rather late, Kirk." I drop the formal phrase so not to irritate him into picking another fight like he had proceeded to do in my office a week ago.

"I could say the same about you. How do you like my meadow?" He smirks at me through the late-evening light.

"I was unaware you owned this acreage." I keep my eyes closed, keeping up the pretense of meditation in hopes he may leave. But who am I trying to deceive? Jim Kirk obviously was looking for me, and found me, no matter how long it took him to do so.

"Hey, is that a cheeky Vulcan I hear?" He chuckles and I hear him drop into the long grass a foot and three inches from me.

"May I make an inquiry?" I give up the pretense and open my eyes, relaxing from my ridged posture and setting my hands in my lap.

"Sure, what's up?" Jim turns a bright, curious smile on me and leans his weight back onto his hands.

"Why are you so adamantly pursuing my attention? As I have observed, you are rather popular among the other students, you certainly have no want of friends for you already possess a sufficient amount of acquaintances. Yet you continue to 'camp out' at my doorstep."

Jim plays with the petals of a wild-flower, growing by his hip, plucking it from the ground and tapping it against his chin in thought, "Phew, for a minute, I thought you'd say 'harassing you'."

I concede with a nod.

He grins, "Well, you want the truth?" Jim scoots a little closer to me and I conquer the voice that tells me to retreat.

"That would be preferable, yes."

Jim shrugs and makes me wait as he shades his eyes and looks up at the fading pinks and purples of the setting sun. Finally, "Everyone needs a friend, Spock, even Vulcans." He extends a very human gesture of friendship by patting my shoulder. "And I like a good challenge, you certainly don't make it easy sometimes. But maybe I'm just enamored with you…" Jim pulled us closer together and dropped his voice secretively, "after all, I'm still waiting to hear that yes from those lascivious lips of yours." He purred, sending a shudder up my spine.

"You may have a very long wait, Kirk." I turn my face away from him so he cannot read my expressive eyes.

"Ha ha, funny little Vulcan…" He smirks. "But like I said, we Kirks don't give up easily." Jim, curiously, winks at me. Fascinating that a twitch of the eyelid can constrict the air passages of my throat…

And though he puzzled me, I decided the only way I could possibly render some answers from the abnormality that is James Kirk, I would have to endure his ever growing interest in me. Perhaps endure is not the correct descriptive word… Of course, I have done little to discourage his advances since that night.

"Ugh, how can you stand that chauvinistic pig?" Nyota groaned on my sofa one afternoon between classes, "He needs to back off and understand that you can't woo a Vulcan with cheap passes and lecherous looks." She reclined against the arm of the sofa, her feet bare and propped up on the sofa cushions next to me. "If he ever gets on your nerves, I can put some of the guys from security training on him." Nearly beaming, she giggled at the devious offer.

"That won't be necessary, Nyota."

"So, still delusional into thinking you can tame him? Jim Kirk is just a monkey with a slightly higher I.Q. score." She blew on her nails, which she had only just pained a dark brown. "Don't tell me you think he's charming?" She rolled her eyes at me.

"He is intriguing."

"More like a pass-time. But like the kind where you find a fork the kind of appealing utensil to gouge your eyes out with. He's like a stupid, rigged carnival game where you end up paying the guy off for the stuffed unicorn."

I arch a brow at her.

"Don't give me that look, you know I'm right." She huffed.

/ Author's Note: I'm not overly happy with this chapter, it seems like it might be in pieces or not all that great. I don't know, let me know what you guys think! D=


	7. Interference

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Oi, after that last chapter, it took a lot of brainstorming on how to get this story back on track and out of suckville. .; Bear with me guys, I'm juggling lots of ideas for this story, and others as well. Sorry, there is some Uhura in this chapter, people don't seem to like her in my stories. I think my own dislike for her shows in how I write her dialog. .; Sorry guys!

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 7

Though Jim Kirk told me his family name means determination and a will worse than a bull, I am not so surprised to find his exaggerated lies to be, indeed, false. Kirk means 'from the church', and from Jim's files, he is listed as 'undecided' under religion. Human levity still leaves me perplexed at most times…

So far, I have learned that this upstart cadet does not waste time when he so obviously means business. I retired from my meditations one morning in my apartment only to have my breakfast interrupted by a knock upon my front door. After a brief moment of running through my schedule, I knew I was not expecting company of any sort. Upon answering the mild intrusion, I was met with an overstuffed vase of flowers of strange, alien varieties. Legs were all I could see of the delivery man and I watched him work to balance the physical accolade on his hip and dig around for the business pad I was to sign. Jim would have sowed some sort of amusement from the strange dance, but as I am Vulcan, I did not…of course.

"Uh, wh-where do you want this, sir?" The Betazoid struggles under the weight of his delivery.

"Allow me, thank you." Slipping my hands underneath the large, green vase, I carry it into my apartment and set it down on the dining room table.

"Oh, thank you sir, have a nice day."

Closing my front door, I turn and scrutinize this fragrant gift. It nearly takes up the entire surface area of the table, it's fronds and flowers sprouting towards the ceiling in every direction. I hardly need to read the small letter card to know from whom this presentation belongs. James Kirk, naturally.

Circling the table, I tap the corner of the letter card against my lips to disguise the secret smile on my face. Lifting the flap on the boutique card, I scan the scrawled writing expressing Jim's intent saying:

'_Would you believe me if I said I saw this in the store and just had to buy it for you? Probably not. Have a good day Spock. - Jim' _

The corners of my mouth turn up into a smirk and I set the card on the table, leaning in to smell the fragrance of the lilacs in the arrangement. It was pleasing, very pleasing…

Jim's affections continued in somewhat the same fashion, though what I did to garner them, I do not know. It became a sort of diversion for me, wondering what Jim would try to sway me with this day and the next. At one time, he had stuck to the clichés of the courting world. Flowers, thoughtful foods and discretely placed letters. And every other day, he would bring up his proposed night out, usually on the way out from class or on my doorstep just before a chess game. No matter his gifts, Jim had not been the first, or the last most-likely, who had shown interest in me over the years I had been teaching at the academy. I have seen students come and go, graduate or leave to pursue another line of work.

What makes Jim different though is that his attention was not cumbersome or irritating. Do not misunderstand me, for I find James Kirk to be frustrating, corrupting, overly persistent and perhaps a little overconfident. But not all his attributes put him at a disadvantage. So when he switched tactics he caught me off guard.

One evening, I was hardly paying attention to the fact that he had not spoken a word to me all day and was focusing instead on my work, when a familiar pair of knuckles met my front door.

"Jim."

"Hey Spock." He smiles, meeting our way of greeting and striding into my apartment as I leave the door ajar for him, retreating into the kitchen to brew his customary cup of what he calls 'joe', and my choice of tea.

"As I had the advantage of playing white during our last game, you may choose the handicap. Perhaps you will defeat me this evening." My lips curl slightly, my back turned towards him.

"Good one, is there a prize if I do win?" He laughs and waggles his brows at me as he sits in his now customary chair at the other side of the table.

"I hardly think I can give a ship as a gift to you, Jim." Handing him his cup of coffee, I take a seat and warm my hands on my cup of tea.

"You know that's not what I want." Leaning his elbow on the edge of my dining room table, Jim sets a paper-wrapped package down next to the chessboard. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

My gaze is drawn to the object out of curiosity, "Perhaps this notorious offering will achieve a sufficient prize for an impending affirmative to your request."

His blue eyes light up, "Seriously?"

"Of course, you would have to win another game of chess against me. 'Fair and square', as you would say."

Jim looks crestfallen, "You're kidding…" Sighing, he shrugs, "Well, we'll see. Here." He holds out the book-shaped object to me and I pry the wrapping from it's cover.

"Beyond Earth, published by the Smithsonian Institution?" I flip through the first few pages and let the brilliant illustrations pass before my eyes. Earth's sun meeting the surface of the blue planet, swirls of clouds painting it's expanse. The Milky Way ablaze on a black background of infinite space. The view of Earth from the surface of it's moon, looking like the moon in turn. "Jim…" My voice is barely a murmur as I become engrossed in this old, paper-back book. "This is…very thoughtful of you." He knows I am drawn to space and what it holds, how considerate of him.

"So you like it?" He bursts into a Cheshire grin, leaning forward in anticipation for my answer.

"I do not own anything like this, it is a wonderful addition to my collections. Thank you, Jim." Prying my gaze from the fascinating, printed pages, I cast him a line with a tiny smile.

Thrown, Jim just stares, finally stammering, "Y-You're welcome."

"Your move." I nod towards the chessboard.

"Sure." Grinning, he picks up a pawn.

* * *

"Goddamnit, Jim. You've drug me to every single rare antiques shop this side of San Francisco!" Bones gripes, "When're we gettin' lunch?"

"Patience, Bones. I know it's here somewhere, this is the last place and they've _gotta_ have it!" Grabbing a fistful of his jacket, I haul him into the small shop, watching his face screw up in annoyance for the cheery sound from bell affixed to the top of the door.

"And how do you know you'll find this useless bobble?" He scowls, folding his arms over his chest as he trudges after me.

Scanning the shelves of old books bound in leather, coins, buttons and trinkets, I heave a sigh, "I looked it up on the net, they were boasting to have the only 'Davis Derby' collapsible piece left known to man." Cracking my knuckles, I wander around the little hole-in-the-wall shop growing more and more anxious when I can't find it.

"What's so good about a Davis Derby? Who's that?"

"A telescope maker from the mid 1800's." Leaning against the front counter, I ring the old finger-bell a few times until Bones slaps his hand down over mine to make me stop, glaring his warning.

"Is this another little token of bribery for the Vulcan?" Bones grumps, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"It's not bribery…"

"If it helps you get a date, it's considered bribery."

"Shut up." Plastering a smile on my face as the shop owner approaches, I explain to her what I'm looking for and follow her shuffling path further into the bowels of her store.

"You're lucky, Mr. Kirk. Someone called this afternoon saying they wanted to have a look at her. But you're here first, so here you go." The woman reverently hands a seven inch wooden box with brass hinges to me and gives me a moment to look over the antique.

"Shit, it's perfect Bones." Beaming at the woman, I set the box on the counter and pull the telescope free of it's velvet confines.

"Why a telescope, anyway?" Bones digs around in the box, pulling out the brass adjustable mount and interchangeable high-power eyepiece.

Uncapping the lens cover, I gently pull the scope out to it's full fifteen inch length, peering through the eyehole. "Because he loves the stars and if the book was any indication, I think this will be even better."

"Why, when he can just use the energy-efficient, broad range scopes we use these days?"

"Because this is antique, and as you know," I glance at the lady, sharing a knowing look, "antiques always have awesome stories. I'll take it." Collapsing the telescope, I place it back in its box and replace the cover.

"And awesome price-tags. You know, you're going to run out of funds before we get an A." He comments sarcastically. Boy, I could smack him into the middle of next week right now…

"You could chip in…"

"Oh no, you said I didn't have to do anything. I'm holdin' you to that, buddy." He holds the door open for me as we exit back out onto the street. "And lets face it, you aren't gettin' too far, Jimmy."

"Can it, only my mother calls me Jimmy."

"Seriously, who're we kidding? I bet that hobgoblin derives his joy from watching his students suffer through mid-terms."

We duck into a little burger joint we've become regulars at and snag a seat, ordering two blue-ribbon big-boy's. "Hey, be patient Bones, things like this don't happen over night."

"Well, at this rate, I'll be eighty by the time you take him out."

"You don't know anything Bones, he's opening up to me, you're just never around to see it. And he doesn't make a show of it in public anyhow."

"So he calls ya Jim while you play your little strategy games together. So what?"

"Hey, first name basis is a big step for a Vulcan." I stab my finger at him until I see him concede to my point. Sipping my coke, I fold the straw sleeve into geometrical shapes, "Besides, I'm not really in it for the grade anymore."

Bones chokes on his coke, diving for the napkin dispenser and coughing into his arm as he dab-dries his lap. "What?" He squawks.

"Jesus, keep it down before you call the cows in." Scanning the restaurant for anyone we might know, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Last thing we need is someone like Admiral Pike stumbling upon our little escapade."

Trying to dry soda off his pants, Bones gives up, glaring at a pair of ladies who're staring at his lap since he looks like he peed himself. I rub it in, "Cripes Bones, maybe it's time for Depends, huh?"

"Fuck off." He grumbles, "Not you sweetie." He sighs, our startled waitress setting our burgers down on the table. "Now tell me just what you mean by that little bombshell you just dropped on me there."

"Simple, Bones, I just don't care about the grade when I could actually get the guy." Twirling a French-fry in my ketchup, I pop it into my mouth, "Imagine what he'd say if he knew I was only getting cozy with him because I want an A in Astro-Physics." The thought makes even myself shudder in revulsion. It's stupid, really. What made me so desperate to even make this bet with Bones? "Even if now it's just an excuse to get to know him."

"You're serious, you're actually serious, aren't you?" Bones gives me this over the top, incredulous look.

"Do you think I'm just talking for my health over here?" Okay, so I do like the sound of my own voice, but I'm trying to make a statement right now. _So_ not the point.

"So you're just switchin' teams on me, huh?" He hasn't taken one bite of his burger yet, bad sign.

"Bones…" I soften my tone and shrug a little, "What can I say? It's like how a moth is drawn to the flame."

"Oh God, he's your 'flame'?" Bones drops his chin into his hand. "Might as well jump ship now then, I knew I couldn't count on you for this." He grimaced, poking a fry at his ketchup.

"Count on him for what?" A perky, if suspicious voice sounds from over my head and I start, turning in the booth only to look up into the perfectly brown face of Uhura.

"Uh…" Shooting Bones the 'shut the fuck up' look, I test the waters to figure out how much she's heard, "I was supposed to pick up his dry-cleaning and totally forgot. What's up?"

Uhura arches a brow at me and I have a split moment of recognition for that expression is a Spock thing. "Uh-huh, and you just happen to be in love with his suits?" She ditches her booth to scoot into ours, trapping Bones in the corner of his seat.

"Why're you sitting with him? I don't bite…hard." I grin and Uhura's lips twist with disgust.

"Please, don't go suave, I'll puke." Pulling her long pony-tail over her shoulder, she picks at Bones' untouched fries. "So it'll be five-hundred credits." She smiled innocently, "I have this crush on these perfect little summer sandals."

"What're you talking about? Why do I have to fork over my funds?"

"All a nice pay-off to keep your little master plan under wraps."

"You're threatening me that you'll squeal?"

Bones looked pale and muttered, "Pay 'er, Jim."

"No!" I look at him in shock, "What, afraid of Miss Manicure, here?" I fling a hand out at Uhura and she squints at my nails before I can snatch back my hand.

"Well, at least I take care of them." She taps her long nails against the table top. "Five-hundred or nil, don't make me raise the choke-pool."

"Where'd you learn to talk smack?" Bones chuckles, reaping a withering look.

"The streets or the movies, take your pick."

I can feel a headache coming on, "Wait, wait, wait. I'm not going to pay you." I hold up my hand to keep her from bolting, "Because I don't think we're the first ones to come up with this idea." I can see the reflection of the glint in my eye in her wide, brown ones.

Bones picks up the scent right away, "Yeah, we've seen you bein' pretty chummy with the pointy-eared bastard." He must have gotten his appetite back for he's diving into his burger.

"Sorry fellas, you're not going to turn the tables on me." Uhura's eyes narrowed.

"You're over at his place almost as much as I am these days." I comment, moving in for the kill, "And so far as I know, your Astro-Physics grade is hovering over the pool of the average."

"At least I'm successful." She shrugged, shimmying out of our booth. "You've got no proof, Jim-bo. For all you know, Spock could be tutoring me."

She's right, I don't know what she does with Spock when she visits him. I _do_ know it's nothing more than gab-fests though since all my gossip comes from Spock over our chess games. When I asked him how he found out about Galia's latest boy-toy, he just said he had his sources with that encrypting brow raise of his. The only other person he avidly talks to is Uhura.

"She's gonna tell him, isn't she?" Bones stares at the door our new nemesis has just sauntered out of in her short little skirt and calf hugging boots. Damn, she does have a nice body, doesn't she?

"Probably." I groan, rubbing my hands over my face. If I'd known how idiotic this was going to be maybe I would have dumped the Academy. Screw Pike, classes, tests, grades, everything. I'd go crash at Sam's and get a job, be a bartender or something. Hopefully never see a Vulcan again…


	8. Prophylaxis

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Lol, well, after that little cliff-hanger, I listened to Yawwii and his/her ravenous screams for more. =P

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

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Chapter 8

I spent a week practically stalking Uhura across the campus. I had all of one class with her so it wasn't the easiest trick to pull. I commissioned Bones to help me since one of her classes was in the same hall as his. But he should keep his day job because he sucks at being stealthy. We sat in the courtyard Tuesday afternoon waiting for her to pass by on her way to the dorms and I had brought a pair of sunglasses and a magazine to disguise my intentions, but he just sat on the edge of the fountain like a dope waiting for a date.

"Oh, look, there she is." He raised his arm to point but I forestalled him by smacking him with my magazine.

"Idiot, don't draw attention to us." I hiss under my breath, crossing one leg over the other and pushing my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose, staring down at the magazine in my lap.

Bones glowers at me, "You know, I didn't ask for this 'change in pace.'"

"Shut up."

He shoves me and I drop my magazine into the fountain.

"You immature ass, what the hell?" I whip off my sunglasses and exchange an eye-battle with the med-student. He won't back down, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. Lunging for his shoulders, we dive head-long into the fountain and I bend over the edge, holding him under the water while he flails and I look around for any teachers.

That was the last time I asked for any help from him, he just doesn't have the Midas touch. So we lived our days wondering when the cock-blocker Uhura would strike like the cobra she was. We looked over our shoulders in dark alleys, slipped around corners with a fist drawn and watched Spock like a hawk. Well, okay, _I_ did those things, Bones just took to the flask and lamented his last days in Starfleet. We could get into serious trouble for trying to bribe a teacher for a grade. That is, if they could prove it. Did Uhura record my conversation with Bones in that burger joint? If she did, I might be able to get it back.

Thus was the birth of my master plan. Well, more like Plan B, B for bitch. I explained it to Bones over a beer and unfinished Xeno-Ethics homework.

"It's genius Bones."

"Sounds completely stupid, not to mention _risky_. Do you know the penalty for gettin' caught in the girls' dorms?"

"A fat lip and a handful of panties? I don't know, and I don't really care."

"Aren't you goin' a little overboard with all this crap, Jim?"

"I'm not asking you to come with me." Rolling my eyes, I get up and don my black jacket and a dark baseball cap depicting the Iowa Cubs insignia.

"How in the hell are you even goin' to get into the dorms without someone a)," he stuck up a finger, "seeing you and b)," he ticked up his thumb to make a gun-shape, "getting your ass fried?" Bones shot his imaginary gun at me. "As far as I can tell, your plan has too many holes."

"Bones, Bones, Bones," I shake my head and clap a hand onto his shoulder, "You seem to forget you're talking to James fucking Kirk."

"You've got the fucking part right." He grumbled, returning his nose to the grind stone.

* * *

So I left the smartass to his prison cell and misadventure, grabbing a few things I had handy for a good ol' B & E. Simple really, it's all about the codes. I've been a whiz with computers since I was nine when I reprogrammed our replicator in the apartment to make everything in a greenish-blue color. It was pretty funny as hell to watch Frank, my step-dad, dial up some bacon and eggs only to get green-eggs and ham. What can I say, _Green-Eggs and Ham _was my favorite Dr. Seuss book. But I'm older now, and a replicator is kid's stuff.

It was still light out when I crossed the courtyards to the girls' dorms, yanking out a pass card I'd programmed from a simple lunch card. It was golden and ingenious, I had to admit and came in handy when I came in past curfew. Brandishing my Jimmy-rigged override card, I swiped it through the card-reader by the outside door to the East dorm and waited for the colored lights to cycle from red, to yellow, to green. The door whirred and clicked as the locks slid free from their recesses. A female voice crackled from the speaker on the wall, "Thank you and please enjoy your meal."

Smirking, I slipped into the dorms. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold, right? It wasn't hard to locate Uhura's dorm she shared with Galia, the Orion woman that pulled out the 'L' word on the first date. Who does that, anyway? Suppressing a shudder of relived relief, I take the lift to the second floor and peek out into the hall for any stray girls straggling outside their rooms. The East girls' dorm is newer than the one Bone's and I stay in and has carpet in the halls instead of tile. I silently thank the designers for this makes for an easier time of sneaking to room 108.

Examining the panel next to the door, I pause to listen outside. It sounds quiet in room 108, and it's too early for anyone to be sleeping. Uhura is at Spock's, this I made sure of, so my only concern is running into her horny roommate. But I'm not too worried, I can always just talk circles around her until she attacks me and sucks my eyeballs out through my mouth. Who says I can't multi-task and look around all the while?

Keying in the sequence for a card-key, I hold my breath as the slider pops out from the wall for my card, which I run through and watch the same greeting from downstairs scrawl across the screen. The bolt in the door snaps back into the jamb and I push the door open with a soft hiss. It's dark and squinting at the beds reveals them to be made and empty. "Yes!" I hiss, pumping my fist and darting over to Uhura's side of the room, rifling through her book bag and desk drawers.

After ten minutes of hardcore pillaging, I turn up empty handed. Maybe I was wrong and she wasn't as smart as everyone said. If she didn't record evidence of Bones and my plans than how the fuck was she going to prove her case? Whirling on her closet, I use the tail edge of my jacket to turn the knob. The psycho could just be crazy enough to dust for fingerprints.

Rummaging through her clothes, I check all the pockets of her pants and jackets, even pawing through her panty drawer. "Eat your heart out, Bones." I grin, extracting a data chip from under her lacey unmentionables. There's no label, which only makes me even more positive that this is what I'm looking for.

Suddenly, there's a noise at the front door, which I locked so as not to seem suspicious to passersby. A voice filters into the room as someone enters and commands the lights to a comfortable low. No, a sexy low. It's Galia.

Releasing the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, I stuff the data chip into my pant's pocket and think better of it. If I have to sleep my way out of this, those'll be the first things gone. So I put the data chip into my jacket pocket and shove my hat into my back pocket so I don't look like a common burglar.

"Jimmy!" Gailia's eyes widen as she sees me reclining on her bed, then narrow in suspicion. "What're you doing here and how did you get in?"

"I thought I'd ask you some advice." I grasp at straws trying to think of something.

The Orion woman stares at me with a dumb expression, folding her arms over her chest, "What do you take me for, a fool? You didn't come here for advice." Her brow brews a storm.

"Oh?" I swallow the warble in my voice, sitting up on my elbows, "Then…what _did_…I come for?" Warily observing her mood, I watch her eyes smolder.

A smirk parts the coral color of her lips, "Just couldn't stay away from me, eh?"

Thank God, Orion conceitedness saves my ass for once! My outlook changes and I look sheepish like she's caught me, raising my hands in surrender, "You know what? You're right. Shit." Pinching the bridge of my nose, I lean over my lap and play at the distressed side of the line, "And I was doing _so_ well ignoring it. God, what'm I gonna do, Galia?" I groan theatrically, hoping I'm not laying it on too thick.

Sighing, Galia perches on the edge of her bed beside me, not even noticing the disarray of her roommate's things. Instead, she hugs me around the shoulders and pats my knee like a granny. "It's okay Jimmy, you're not the first one to be blinded by Orion sex appeal. But you have to be strong, put me out of your mind. It'll be for the best." She tilted her head to try and get a look at my face but I tilt it away in shame so I can hide the roll of my eyes.

"Yeah…Okay. You're right." I choke out a sob and clear my throat as if to hide it, sniffing loudly and standing up. "Well, I should get out of here before…my control slips." I ball my hands into fists and stuff them into my pockets. I walk quickly to the door and have my hand on the knob when her voice stops me in my tracks.

"Jim!"

I stiffen and close my eyes, tensed for a fight. But instead, I find my baseball cap fitted onto my head.

"Don't forget this." She smiled sweetly and patted my cheek in sympathy.

"Uh, th-thanks." I stammer, stepping out into the hall and walking calmly a few steps until I'm out room 108's line of sight, then I dart down the stairs like a bat out of hell.

I don't breath again until I've slammed the door of my dorm room shut and slid down to lean against it on the floor. Bones looks up from his desk, "Crap, I knew you wouldn't get it, now we're into even more trouble." He scowled, getting up from his seat and yanking a desk drawer open to retrieve his medical kit. Crouching next to me, he pulled out his med-scanner. The steady warble of it's mechanics snapped me out of my panting, gasping reverie.

Pushing his hand aside, I smirk and pull the data chip from my jacket pocket, waving it under his nose. "Read 'em and weep, old man." I chuckle in the new high of victory and saunter over to his computer consol, exchanging the preexisting chip for the unlabeled one from Uhura's room. Hitting the button by the face-plate, I wait for my luscious tones to fill the room. Instead, the monotone monologue of one of Spock's lectures pours from the speakers.

Bones folds his arms across his chest, his expression shrewd, "How's this goin' to save our ship, Jim?"

It takes a moment to sink in, then I'm glad there's a chair behind me otherwise I would have fallen on my ass. "How-…" Staring at the data chip, I wait for the inevitable anger to hit me. Jumping up, I demolish Bones' desk, swiping his books off the edge and kicking his trash-bin across the room, "Who keeps a _fucking_ recording of a lecture in their _underwear drawer!_"

Bones dives for his desk, snatching up his precious pictures and things he doesn't want broken, "_Hey, hey! _Demolish your own desk, _goddamit!_"

Spock's voice filters on unperturbed, much like the possessor in real life. I can just see him now, arching an infallible brow at me and gaze down his nose at me like I'm some failed specimen in his bio lab. Grabbing the data chip roughly from the consol slot, I throw it down onto the floor and nearly stomp it into oblivion. But I freeze with my heel just inches away from it's shiny coverlet.

A bitter twisting in my chest makes me stoop and pick it up again, hefting it in the palm of my hand like a murder weapon. This could be all I hear of Spock's voice if I get kicked out of Starfleet for this fuckery, I shouldn't obliterate it. Instead, I clutch it tightly and stumble over to my bed, dropping onto the mattress like a corpse and steam rolling myself into my sheets like a burrito.

I know it's no good to sulk, like you shouldn't cry over spilt milk. But this milk is green…and sexy, and amazing at chess.

"Have you ever thought of coming clean yourself?" Bones asked softly from where he stood reorganizing his desk. "You know, owning up to yer plans before Uhura can? It'd sound better comin' from you than her."

I pause, "But he's just untrusting enough that that'd be the last nail in my coffin anyhow."

"Yeah, but then you'd look like less of a cock-sucker and you can paint yerself in whatever light you'd like. You can bet Uhura'll make you sound like you've raped an innocent lady of her virtues."

"True." I concede to his point, tapping the data chip against my chin. "But what'm I going to say to him, Bones? 'Oh, haaaay, by the way, I was only into you at first because I wanted a good grade. But now you're golden, kay thanks.'?" I scowled, "Yeah, that'll blow over like a lead fart."

Bones shrugged, "Just tell 'im the truth. Be candid."

"That's real sound advice, Bones. You should put that on the next Darwin award." Turning over, I frowned at him, "And since when did this become solely _my_ problem? Aren't you going to come clean with me?"

"Are you kiddin'? And end up livin' on a street corner with only the clothes on my back? My wife has everything else, I'll be stuck with a cardboard sign and a year's growth of beard." He rubbed his chin as if he could already feel the hobo taking over in him.

"You ol' poop." I grumble sourly, depositing the data chip holding Spock's lecture onto my bedside table. "For once, you're right. I'll go tell him in the morning." I'd go tell him now, but I think I'd have a better speech if I slept on it…

/Author's Note: Aaaand, another cliff hanger! I'm so bad.. ] Sorry guys! I just think the next series of events would be good all in one chapter! .


	9. Isolated Pawn

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Sorry this chapter took me so long guys! I was nervous about writing this one because I was afraid it wouldn't turn out very good. More confrontation between Spock and Kirk, which is the hardest to write sometimes. .; Don't hate on me! D:

Thanks for all the nice comments and praise y'all! It makes me so happy! =3 Your impatience has been bothering me for a week now and so I'm finally getting on my own case and pulling up my boot straps! So here's the long awaited chapter nine.

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 9

I awoke with a massive headache and purplish bruises under my eyes. Who ever said sleeping on a problem makes your brain work on it all night was right. But you don't sleep during that time, you lay there staring at your roommate, hating them and wishing you could trade places. Then you throw a book at them and gain some evil satisfaction in the hollow sound it makes when it hits their head. Only Bones didn't wake up, I'm thinking he's gotten into the habit of taking sleep aids when I'm around, that bastard.

I had a dream that could only be the worst case scenario. It was after I told Spock and he was alright with it, I mean, he was his usual self and seemed to almost brush it off. Then he just kept razing on me during class, asking me the hardest questions, some weren't even questions! Like, he'd ask what the total circumference of a supernova was at it's smallest stages, then he'd turn to me and out of the blue, I swear to God, just ask me what he had for dinner last night. Fucking scariest moment of my life. Then classic case, I was in only my underwear…

Okay, so I know that's probably not going to happen, but my mom always said my imagination runs wild with the most trivial thing and turns it into an end all, sky is falling situation. She also said I was one hell of a child to talk to, that she didn't have to get high with me for the conversation to hold the wickedly impossible. I still take that as a compliment.

God, I look like shit in the face. But maybe if I look truly haggard and pathetic, he'll sympathize that I lost sleep over this. I rarely lose sleep over my problems, Bones thinks it's sick that I can sleep through those horrible safety videos they make us watch that shows all these clips and holos of those radiation victims and shit. He sat there cringing through the whole thing and itching for a hypo to administer. I just folded my arms, hung my head over the back of my seat and took a long siesta. Hey, what you can't see can't bother you. And the appalled gasps from the rest of the class only made me kind of horny.

Anyway, I showered and got dressed, leaving my hair in a tangled mess. What was one day of looking totally wiped if I could get Spock to take my side of things. Besides, the ladies seem to like the 'I don't got my shit in order' type of look these days, at least the dumb ones with the low grade point average do. If I want a smart, seasoned one, I practically have to wear a tux every day and light a cigar, talk some smack about poetry and crap.

Bones ambled into the bathroom to take a leak, rubbing his head where I'd hit him with that Mark Twain book last night.

"Whoa, whoa, hey! What're we, an old married couple? We don't pee in front of each other, put that away." I wave at his one-eyed monster like it's one of those pesky animals digging up my roses. If I had roses…

Bones mumbled something that sounded like 'fuck off', but it could have been 'love you Jimmy boy, be a good kid and close the door.'

"Well aren't you cheery this morning, love you too. Hey, you got anything for a headache?"

He flushes the toilet and washes his damn hands for like, fifteen fucking minutes. I swear, even when he's half awake, the friggin' doctor in him perseveres. I start pilfering through his things on his desk and in the drawers until he shoves me aside and unearths the kit I'd overlooked. I take a few cautionary steps back, just in case he feels like jabbing me with a hypo.

Handing me two gel pills, he holds up a finger to forestall me knocking them back solo, "Take those with water or they won't work."

Sighing, I grab a paper cup in the bathroom and fill it from the tap. The sneaky bugger waits until I'm distracted before jamming one of those lance-like hypos into my neck. I spit water onto the mirror, coughing, "Fuck! Ow! What the hell-"

"That was for the book last night." He grumbled, "Clean that up before you go."

Seriously, if he wasn't my friend and my doctor, I wouldn't put up with this crap.

I chose not to sit next to Bones during Astro-Physics class that afternoon. He deserved some cold shoulder after the trick he pulled in our dorm room this morning. Besides, I didn't want him seeing me become all edgy and nervous. When I came into class, all I got was one of those arched brows from Spock at my appearance. But he didn't choose to acknowledge me until the bell rang and everyone started to file out into the halls. Bones gave me that 'don't screw up' look and clapped me on the shoulder like we were still buddies. We might not be if this doesn't go well. He muttered to me, "Leave me outta this if it looks bad. I'll try and vouch for you if you get court marshaled."

I rolled my eyes, "Sure, a classic kill the messenger thing."

"If your little spending spree on him did any good, he might decide to let you off the hook."

"Not with my luck. He'll probably think I was trying to buy him like a two dollar hooker. Now shut up, he's got incredible hearing. I don't think Uhura's let the Vulcan out of the bag yet."

"You mean the cat outta the bag?"

"That's what I said." I frowned at him, turning and walking down the steps.

"Is something bothering you, Jim? It seemed you had trouble focusing on the lecture today." Spock looked me over while gathering his lesson plan and notes that were mostly there if he got off topic. The Vulcan made a point of memorizing all of his lectures.

"Uh, yeah…can we talk in your office?" I heft the cloth-wrapped box in my hands, having brought the telescope along as a peace offering. I hoped it didn't look like one.

Spock paused, but eventually decided that I didn't pose a threat or something and led me across campus to the teacher's lounge and offices. He keyed in the code to his office at the end of the hall and stood aside for me to enter first.

Still tastefully decorated, if a little bare, I saw the book I'd given him sitting on the shelf with a handful of other intimidating works.

"You may sit, Jim." Spock sets his personal data pad down on his desk and links it up to the office console, "Would you like something to drink?"

I shrug, "Whatever you're having." God this felt awkward, right? Maybe it was just me… But he was being so nice, I thought my gifts had fallen into uncaring hands. Perhaps if Uhura hadn't found out, I would have gotten that date with this box. Looking down at it in my hands, I stroke the velvet cover with my thumbs.

Spock approaches the replicator by the door and dials up some tea and coffee.

"This isn't what you're having." I sip gratefully though, smiling as I notice he's catered to my preferences.

"No, but it is what you like. Familiarity seems to comfort Terrans when they are experiencing stress." He sits down, not in his chair behind the desk, but in the visitor's chair next to me, turning it towards me. "Do you wish to share what is on your mind, Jim?"

This had to be new ground for the Vulcan. I mean, there couldn't be any students who came to Spock with their problems unless it was something having to do with his classes. It seemed he'd turned over a new leaf, and he wasn't half bad at the whole counselor thing right now.

"Your grade has risen exceptionally, is there a problem you require to discuss?"

Jeez, he must be psychic. Are Vulcan's psychic? "Actually, it's not about grades. Well, it _is_ but not how you think." Shit, my motor-mouth was getting away with me. I sounded like one of those babbling dudes trying to pick up a girl way out of their league. Is Spock way out of my league? "But, before that, here." I held out the medium-sized box for him to take and when he did, his fingers brushed mine, but he didn't seem to notice or care this time. The last time that'd happened, he'd pulled back rather quickly, looking mildly offended.

"What is this?" He set his teacup down and set the box on his knees, looking up for an explanation.

"I uh, I saw that in an online store. Took me forever to track it down, but it's genuine." Smiling, I relay the summary on the expensive telescope. "It's much more practical to take with you instead of one of those bigger telescopes. It's not as powerful, but it's got history. You can see Earth's moon really well through it."

Spock unwraps the velvet cloth, revealing the waxed wood beneath. He took the telescope out and fingered it's fine craftsmanship, stretching it out to it's first length. "Jim…I do not know what to say."

He's fucking speechless! Why do I have to tell him I'm a cheating bastard? Well, a failure of a cheating bastard. I doubt he brought my grade up because of my gifts. He had to know they were bribes, right? He's not stupid…

"Thank you, but I do not understand why you have gone to such great lengths to find such an expensive conversation piece." He set the telescope back in it's case and closed the lid, setting it down on his desk.

I laughed a little, knowing this was my chance, "Well, I really want that date." Folding my hands, I set them under my chin, elbows on the arms of my chair.

He arches the dramatic brow, "You are persistent, I admit. But it is unwise for a faculty member of the academy to become involved with the personal life of a student."

"This isn't high school anymore, Spock. We're all adults here. Well, except for that Russian kid. Anyway, it's just a date, who says it'd be anything more?" I scratch the back of my head.

"I am finding it hard to believe you only wish for a date. You have gone to quite extensive trouble to buy my favor."

Shit, here it goes… I open my mouth to ruin the one good damn thing in my life, but the door to Spock's office chimes.

"Excuse me." He gets up, moving around his desk to push the button to let the mood-wrecker in.

I froze. What if it was Uhura? Here to blow my cover? "Wait!" I jump up and slap my hand down on the desk, meeting the startled brown eyes that look up at me.

"Jim?"

"Don't let them in…Let me finish first."

Spock tilts his head, "It would be rude to make a visitor wait."

"It'd be rude to let them interrupt me when I'm trying to tell you something important." Please don't let him be stubborn. But there's no hope, I watch his brown eyes harden and his hand shift back to the call button.

"Please, Mr. Kirk, it should only take a moment." He thumbs the switch and the safety on the door's entry field clicks off. The door slides open and my hope is crumpled up like a bad idea and tossed into the waste basket. Then trampled on and set on fire with mass amounts of gasoline.

"Mother fucker." I grumble, dropping back into my seat. "There is no God, and if there is, he hates me."

"That's right Jimmy, no deity is going to listen to you now." Uhura walked in, hips a-swaying.

"Don't call me 'Jimmy.'" I growl.

Spock sits behind his desk, "What do you need, Nyota?"

I shudder when he calls her by her first name. It took me _forever_ to get him to call me Jim, what's with the special treatment for her? It's like he's a lecherous old man who'll do anything for a pretty lady, but be a man-hater also.

"Why'd you choose now?" I mutter sourly, glaring as she sits in the chair Spock had vacated to get the door.

"I saw you weren't in your Command Theory class, so where else would you be?" She folded one slim leg over the other.

"You checked on me in my classes?" I act appalled when Bones and I had been doing the same thing to her.

"How's your own medicine taste?" She smiled falsely.

"I…fail to see the relevance of this conversation and why it must take place in my office. Is there something you came to discuss?" This was directed at Uhura and my mind raced to answer before her.

"No, she's only-"

"-come to warn you about the two swindlers you've got in your class." Her gaze was very pointedly on me. "I overheard them discussing their plans last week."

"Alright, how much is it now?" I'm desperate now, if she still wants credits, she can have however goddamn much she wants.

"An amount you could never afford. There's no amount of credits that could convince me to betray a friend." She smiled up at Spock.

The Vulcan was silent, probably deciding what he was going to do with me. I could feel the guilt on my face like a milk-mustache.

"You son-of-a-bitch." I grip the arms of my chair. Uhura's eyes flash and I know she's going to tell.

"Who are you accusing, Miss Uhura?" Spock intercedes, his tone meaning all business.

We both suck in a breath and blurt, pointing at each other:

"She's lying, I didn't-"

"It's him and that sleazy doctor friend of his!"

She stands and I follow, turning away from facing Spock to argue:

"He's not sleazy, leave Bones out of this!"

"He's lazy, foul-breathed, lanky and bad tempered!"

"That's just who he is! At least he's not a _floozy!_"

She gasps and shoves me, "At least I'm not a faggot!"

"_Whore!_" I shove her back.

"_You rotten, aging, pseudo-intellectual, mirror-obsessed, dirt-licking schmuck!_"

I place my hand to my chest, "Aw, I'm touched. Sounds great coming from an _egotistical, miserable tart!_"

Her mouth gaped and she slapped my face, hard enough to make me rub my jaw. "_Pencil-penis-_"

Spock, who'd gone ignored for about five minutes, suddenly raised his voice. It startled us both as he slapped his hands down on his desk and shouted, "_Enough!_"

Uhura and I broke apart and stared at the Vulcan.

Then, "Miss Uhura, you are dismissed."

"But I," she started but he cut her off.

"_Dismissed._" He stressed the syllables.

I couldn't help a little self-satisfied smirk as she huffed in frustration and glared at me, "This isn't over, asshole."

"People like you are the reason why I'm on medication." I shouted at her back as she stomped out of Spock's office.

"Sit. Down, Mr. Kirk. Do not revel in your victory yet."

I gulped, my ass making quick friends with the seat of the chair.

Spock indicated the box holding his latest gift, "Tell me the real motives behind your favors, Kirk, and be frank."

I didn't like his new tone, he sounded like a dick when he was commanding me like this, "At first, it was to gain your friendship and trust."

"As a bribe?" He caught on fast.

"Yes." I won't drop my eyes or show submission here, locking my eyes onto his face.

"Is that all you hoped to achieve?"

"No, sir." My jaw hurts from clenching it so tightly. I could kick a puppy right now…

He arches a brow, the wordless signal that I had better explain, and do it fast.

"We heard, at the beginning of the semester, that your class was challenging. Bordering impossible, actually. I had the great idea to befriend the professor and try to get some favoritism from that. I know, stupid, right? But Bones didn't have anything to do with it, okay?" I stand up, pleading my case for my friend.

"Dr. McCoy?"

"He wasn't even an accomplice, he sucks at stealthy stuff like that. So whatever punishment you see fit should be all mine."

Spock thinks in silence for a while, letting me stew in my anxiety. Then, "I will meditate on this, you may go."

So he's gonna let me wallow in my fears for days? Cripes, who ever said Vulcans were merciful? "I'm sorry."

He picked up the telescope and hands it to me, "I cannot except this any longer, as it was a boon for unfair propositions."

I keep my hands firmly clasped behind my back, "No, honestly Spock, I bought those things for you because I meant the emotions behind them. I want you to have the book, the telescope."

"Why?" He deadpanned like it was so illogical.

"Because I knew you would enjoy them, that's why I bought those gifts for you. It stopped being for the grade and being more for the date. But, believe what you want. Believe me or that brownie butt-muncher out there."

"Mr. Kirk-"

"Right, sure, I'm going…"

"Mr. Kirk."

I turn, hating how my name sounds coming from him. Like the disappointment I never got to hear from my father when I crashed that car over the summer…because he was dead. "What?" I find the telescope placed in my hands.

"I do not want a gift I feel no longer holds significance. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but it is wasted here." Spock turns on his heel and retreats behind his desk again, his posture stiff and unforgiving as he sits down. He is my professor once again, not Spock, the Vulcan who's insanely good at our chess games. Or who buys me coffee for when I stop by. Or who calls me Jim…

That was the hardest door I've ever had to walk through in my life… But I swear, I won't give up. Kirks don't give up. I really wasn't in it for the grade at the end, but for that hott piece of Vulcan ass. If I didn't have morals, I'd have a bitch to beat right about now.

Gritting my teeth, I return to the dorms, not particularly wanting to take notes at the moment. Screw class, lectures were for the weak willed. Bones looked up from his textbook when I slammed the door and chucked the telescope onto the bed.

"How much time do ya have to get your stuff packed?" He asked, probably thinking he was being cheeky.

"I don't know yet, he hasn't made a decision on what to do with me. You're a lucky bastard though, he probably won't do anything to you." I snatch the flask right out of his top drawer and throw back half the bourbon inside.

"Whoa, hold yer horses there!" He get grabby for his flask and ends up prying it from my fingers. "If ya need a drink, replicate somethin'."

"Idiot, you know they don't let you replicate alcohol here." I gripe, "_God_, it was so humiliating to have to fight for my honor against Uhura!"

"Uhura showed up?" Bones smirked, jolly now that _his_ neck was off the chopping block. "How'd she paint you?"

"Like a Monet from hell. She was more interested in dissing you for a while."

"What?"

"Called you sleazy." I repeat all the smack she poured out about him and watched him scowl.

"There's a name for that kinda woman where I come from." He sipped from his flask.

"What's that?"

"A hussy."

Sighing, I pace the length of our room, "And he was being so nice to me before hand, I really hated having to lay it on him like that. But then I didn't even get the chance to when she showed up. He got all Vulcan logical on me."

"Ouch." Bones shook his head, "You sure like the challenging ones, don't'cha, Jim?"

"Makes the high of the win better in the end." Only I wasn't so sure I'd be winning this game anymore.

/Author's Note: Nooooo! Spocky is being mean. D: Don't worry... he'll see the light! The light of Iowa sunshine! I hope... T.T


	10. Quiet Move

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Ooooh my goodness, another long awaited chapter! XD I'm so sorry for making you guys all hang onto the edges of your seats, even if it gives me great joy to know I've instilled such heart-hammering anticipation in my readers. =3 I've started classes again, so it'll take me a while to keep up with my story. Thank you guys for all the support you've lent me over this story! I hope I don't disappoint!

Sorry for the short chappie! D:

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 10

Bunk-bed.

Desk.

Bunk-bed.

Desk.

"Jesus Jim, you're wearin' a rut in the carpet. Settle down and quit pacing, will ya?" Bones scowled from his bed where he was just waking up. I'd risen early today, consumed with my anxious thoughts and impromptu ideas. After spending a night with my 'prized' recording of Spock's lecture on the structural integrities of red matter, I had decided that quick action was way better than sitting around for weeks brooding until my genius brain had time to brew a marvelous scheme. I was a bonafide Kirk dammit, and we don't admit defeat with grace.

"Good Lord, how long've you been awake?" Bones rubbed his eyes and yawned, scratching like some primate as he ambled into the bathroom, starting the sonic shower. "I'm tired of seein' that crazed look of a lunatic on your face every day, when're you going to own up and go back to chasin' skirts?" Grumbling, he replicated some slop this place calls coffee and sucked it down before closing the door, hardly awake enough to wait for an answer from me.

"I swear, Bones, this is it! This is all I have to do, I just have to prove I'm the damn smartest, hard working guy here!" I raved when he came back for his second cup of coffee, adding a little nip to it, as has become his custom since starting second semester.

He snorted around the rim of his cup, "Sorry to break this to ya, Sherlock, but he's not some parent you can make proud to cover your tracks. Come on Jim-bo," Bones' tone turned pleading and he clapped me on the shoulder, "Just pray he doesn't kick ya out of Starfleet and play at the cautious side of things until graduation. M'kay?" He tidied his bed and gathered up his data chips and pad, putting them in his bag for class.

"What? No, that's the easy way out." I waved aside his comments and picked through my things for what I needed to take to class. But a hand on my arm forestalled my actions and turned me to face the somber expression of my good friend.

"Jim, he's Vulcan…they don't see past deceit easily. So unless you've got some freaky-deaky skills with voodoo or something, you're not gonna get past zero base with that walking ice-berg." Bones slapped my shoulder like his next words would cheer me up, "How 'bout I fix you up with someone tonight, huh? You haven't been out in a while. She's real nice, sweet on the patients in the infirmary. Whaddya say?" He finished dressing, sitting down to pull on his boots. "Oh." Bones blinked, looking like that wolf from roadrunner when he realizes he's been foiled again. "Unless you'd rather have that gent in our flight simulator group…?" Looking vaguely disgusted, he shook his head violently and held up his hands before I had the chance to answer, "You know what, if you ever get into shit like that with some guy, ya know…sword fights and all, if I hear one whisper of it from you, I'll slug you."

Smirking, I sneak up on him as he pulls on his uniform coat, twirling a lock of his hair around my finger, "Aw Bones, you don't want juicy details to entertain your own unfulfilled desires?" He shudders with revulsion, barely giving me reaction time to duck out of his range as he starts swinging.

"I don't know why I try doin' anything nice for you." Bones scowled, his face flushed a tomato red.

"Well, thanks for the tempting invitation anyways, but I've got some major crack-down to do if I'm going to bridge the gap." Scrambling for the door, I snag my book bag and leap over the mini fridge in my haste. If I'm going to be top of my class, I'll need only the best tutors. I can't exactly go to Spock and ask him for help, right? I mean, I could…but not until I'm sure he's not exactly mad at me. So until I can muster up a plan to lure Spock out of his shell again, I need to enlist the second best set of wits. Even if those wits are short for their age, curly-topped, and insufferably smart…

* * *

"What do you _mean_ you're busy?" I know I probably sound like a regular old pathetic to everyone around us, but when you've got your hands fisted in the front of a kid's uniform and a Vulcan breathing down your neck for being a lying cheat, you kind of find yourself doing things you swear you wouldn't.

"I mean exactly dat, Kirk! I am beesy! Can't you ask Sulu?" Chekov hung from my grasp like one of those raggedy Andy dolls, blue eyes flitting around the crowded hall outside our last lecture.

"Oh c'mon," I snort, "What braud has agreed to a date with a kid barely out of the cradle?"

Chekov smacks my side with his book bag, "At least I not make enemies!"

I shake him around a little, holding him a few centimeters off the tiles by the front of his uniform, "C'mon man, I'm desperate!"

"So I can see." Chekov grasped my wrists, "Put me down."

"Not until you agree, I can't be so sure you won't just dart away like some snake. If I don't get my ass in gear, that stick up Spock's ass is only going to get pokier!"

"Zee only snake here eez you." Chekov grinned like a dope, but that expression fell clean off his face after his eyes focused on something over my shoulder.

Closing my eyes in self-loathing, I murmured, "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

Chekov had that terrified look on his face that spoke of wet underwear and jelly legs, nodding like a bobble-head.

Whipping around, I drug the red-head with me and put him in a head-lock, grinding my knuckles into the top of his head like my brother used to do to me, "Gotta teach the smart ones how to share, right?" I chuckle, picking up Chekov's bag off the floor and took my first look around, only to find the corridor empty and no sign of Spock at all. No Chekov either. "Why that little Russian bastard!"

And that's how I ended up wrestling a kid genius into a chair and tying him down in the Starfleet library.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Panting, I lean over the empty seat next to an equally exhausted Chekov. "A regular old actor. Nice thing you pulled there, with the quaking knees."

"I had to learn self defense with zee jocks at my school." He gasped, resting his head on the table, hands tied together in his lap.

"I bet you were quite the slippery little nerd, huh?" Unloading my books, I glance around and catch some stiff reading an ethics book a few tables away staring at us. "What're _you_ looking at buddy, like what you see?"

A librarian shushes us and the dude looks mortified when I smirk at Chekov for leaning way over and hissing in a low, library approved tone, "Help, I have been kidnapped by crazy Iova farm boy. He tie me up bondage style because he eez-"

"Alright, that's enough." I clap a hand down over his mouth and hold his jaw shut so he can't bite me. "We done? Ready to help me out?"

Sighing, Chekov nods gloomily, "I really did hawe plans this ewening." He sulked, perching his manacled hands under his chin with his elbows braced on the edge of the study table.

"Well, then you can reschedule. If it was a date, I have a discount card for that little Italian joint down the road you can have."

He perked up, "Really? I can hawe it?"

"Yeah, okay, sure. Now pay attention."

* * *

"You've got guts, farm boy."

"And you've got herpes, but that doesn't keep you from having a nice time." It doesn't take a Vulcan I.Q. to predict the likelihood that I would run into Uhura at this bar. She meets here with her cronies, including that Orion woman Galia, who's blowing me kisses as we speak. "What do you want now, Uhura? Everything else that's important to me? Do you want my manhood, is that what you want?" I sigh, slamming down my now empty shot glass and blinking the fuzziness out of my sleep-depraved eyes.

From the corner of my eye, I can see her face contort in distain, "God no, your manhood is the last thing I would want."

"Well, it's kinda hard to tell when you stalk me, sabotage my relationships, and mess with good people."

"Good people? And who would that be?"

"Bones."

She laughs, "I didn't touch him, he was fine. I knew he wasn't helping you out."

I look over at the big fellow beside me with hair coming out of his ears, hooking a thumb over at Uhura, "Can you believe her?" He looks at me dumbly. "So what _do_ you want from me then? I know you wouldn't be talking to me unless there was just one more helpless mouse you wanted for lunch."

Uhura snorts, "Stop being so dramatic, was just looking out for a friend. I care for Spock, he deserved to know he wasn't getting true friends but a lying, cheating shmuck."

"Shmuck?" Now it's my turn to snort, "And what do you know of true friendship? Your closest buddy fucks anything that moves."

Uhura scowls at me, "An attribute of her race you seemed to thoroughly enjoy earlier."

"Yeah, that was before she want and dropped the 'L' bomb." I mutter around the third shot of vodka I throw back. It's all Chekov's fault for getting me hooked on it, I swear.

"That's why-?" Uhura cuts herself off in a huff and folds her arms over her chest, "Alright, that's not what I came here to talk to you about. I came to tell you to keep your dick in your pants and to stop mucking around with Spock. He's not the family cow you can hit up in the barn for a quick jolly."

I blink, "What're you talking about? I haven't talked to him since you stuck your Pinocchio nose into my business in his office."

Uhura actually looks thrown and I take immense pleasure in the look on her face, smirking as she splutters, "But he's been so distracted lately, I could have sworn you were still pestering him or something."

My brows rise in intense interest, "Oh? Distracted you say?"

She rolls her eyes, "Don't flatter yourself, he's probably just stuck under a truck load of work to do."

"That's no problem for a Vulcan. Strong emotions for a student on the other hand…"

Uhura shakes her head and puts her hand up to forestall my words, "Don't even. Just forget we even had this conversation. I know I will." Turning on her heel, she returns to her frat-girl friends and I to my drink. I shouldn't even be here, I should be up in my room studying with a flash light. Bones has banned me from studying with the lights on past midnight so I've taken to the old sheet trick. You know, where you hide from your mom with your hologamer under the covers so they can't see the light from under your door? That's me, only my guilty pleasure is a stack of books with a _Property of Starfleet Academy_ sticker on the bindings. And what have I got to show for all my hard work over the past few weeks? A migraine that won't go away, shaky hands, no social life and the kind of exhaustion that could set a guy hyped up on twenty grams of speed in an eternal coma. There is only so much coffee can do, and it definitely doesn't prop me up like a marionette doll like it used to.

Now I'll probably go home, take a shower, and fall asleep leaning over the sink. Bones will find me the next morning with a toothbrush in my mouth and the nearly permanent tile lines from the counter imprinted on my cheek.


	11. Revelations

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Holy cow, okay, I had no idea this chapter would take me so long to write and update. I'm SORRY! I hope I haven't lost any followers because of the anticipated update. .; I've had a lot on my plate as of late with my senior year and all. But I've had such forgiving reviews from you all and encouragement that I just couldn't make y'all wait any longer. My apologies!

This chapter contains some fluff and gooey goodness. =P

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 11

My observations have truly revealed one of the greatest feats in all my years of teaching. This past week has been fraught with trials and tribulations in many forms. I should have recognized the arbitrary fate that faced me was anything but easily avoided. Jim Kirk could be the most frustrating of cases, but also the most fascinating. I had been informed through subtle conversations and passing comments from students in the hallways that Kirk had been 'busting his hump' studying, so to speak. This phrase means little to me but I have frequently entered the Starfleet library to obtain records on file and heard the emaciated sighs filled with defeat from the astronomy section tables. On any other ordinary occasion, I would have simply passed these ascertainments as mute and unimportant. But this time, I recognized the sulky baritone and couldn't forestall a detour in that direction upon my leaving.

The sight that met my eyes took a half second longer to process than if I had been scrutinizing the most recent of updated star charts. I identified the second person to be the young Russian boy with exemplary grades who went by the name of Chekov, but his enthusiasm was far from present with his current burden of what appeared to be attempts at tutoring Jim Kirk. I could easily overhear what the young Russian was trying, for obviously the fourth or fifth endeavor, to explain to his pupil. Even if I was 5.23 yards away with four bookshelves dividing us. It appeared that the younger student's ventures at explanations for the mass of fuel required to put a 2.8 million kilogram reusable rocket into orbit with an altitude of one Earth radii.

"Okay, ezzume that the heat of combustion for hydrogen ezz 160 kilo-jeweles per mole and 61% of the energy of combustion used to cause motion." Chekov had one of his hands buried in his hair, fingers tightly gripping the curled strands.

"You might as well be speaking Greek to me right now Chekov." Jim Kirk throws up his hands and slumps back into his chair.

"Did you newer pay attention een chemistry class, Kirk? Kilo-jeweles giwes you an energy production per molecewel. You should know the mass per molecewel. So you should be able to figure out the energy per mass!"

Jim Kirk lifted his head from the back of his chair and glanced in my direction. An irrational impulse to conceal myself made me take a quick step back behind the cover of the nearest bookshelf. After admonishing myself for my absurd behavior, I gathered my hardcopy files against my chest and wasted no more time on the problem I call Jim Kirk.

Over the period of two weeks, I heard the evidence and saw the awe and stupefaction on the faces of the other professors at staff meetings as they relayed their unbelievable tales of his progresses and how his grades improved in leaps and bounds. There was no question of his integrity as he was the only student who asked the most questions in class. I, myself, beheld with my own eyes his sudden turn of heart in my lectures. But unlike his other classes, his rank in Astrophysics neither improved nor worsened. And just as I was about to put aside our differences and inquire if he wished my assistance in understanding the computations in my lectures, this is when the notes began to appear.

These were nothing too astounding at first, but they did alert me to the realization that I still hadn't been freed from Jim Kirk's singular interest. The first was simple and somewhat strange in it's humor:

"Did you know that until the mid sixteenth century, comets were thought to have not been astronomical phenomena, but burning vapors that had arisen from distant swamps and were propelled across the sky by fire and light?"

It was a fact that made a person reflect on how much our knowledge had grown since those primitive centuries when man was just beginning to show interest in the skies above them. Of course, Vulcan was already well versed in astronomy. I placed the card on my dining room table and simply forgot about it. Until the second one arrived boldly affixed to the inside of my office door. How he had gained entrance to my personal office space distressed me at first, but after checking everything of importance was in place and undisturbed, I sat down to scan the place card stamped with his bold manuscript:

"A Pulsar is a small star made up of neutrons so densely packed together that if one the size of a silver dollar landed here on earth, it would weigh approximately 100 million tons. But you already knew that, right? Thought I wasn't paying attention today didn't you?"

It struck me then that these notes hadn't been signed and yet I knew the composer of them. How he knew I would recognize his writing only made me more positive that these proceedings had to stop. I intended to tell him just this when I called him to my desk after class at the end of the working week.

"We're on speaking terms again?" He brightened like the dawn before a dying star as it reached it's hottest point in it's life.

"You are always welcome to confront me on matters of my lecture or curriculum, Mr. Kirk. There was never a time when I would have refused to answer your questions concerning that." Shutting down my data pad, I lift my eyes to compound his fall from triumph into my mind. I am aware it was an evil desire, but I am forgiven my sin as it gave me no pleasure as his smile sank from his face.

"Okay, so what's this about?"

Pulling the small stack of note cards from my desk, I drop the paper clipped bundle before him on my desk, "You may keep these Mr. Kirk, it would not do if-"

"Wait, hold on." He picked up the stack by a corner and held them out to me with a thrust of his arm, "There's nothing wrong with these, it's just written proof that your lecture isn't going to waste. Don't most professors like to know when their messages sink in and something they say is actually learned? I find it hard to believe these notes would cause a problem with the academy board if they saw them."

My gaze shifts from the place cards down the length of his arm to his stubbornly set features, "The content alone would not warrant a complaint. But the frequency with which they come may suggest a more than healthy obsession."

This gave him pause before he spoke, "'Obsession'?" Chuckling, he drops the stack of cards onto my data pad and folds his arms with the most defiance I've seen in the human race on his face. "Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't like these little reminders. And I know you can't lie, it's not in your nature." A self-satisfied smirk twitches at the corners of his mouth, ready to spring to life at my slightest acquiescence.

I've come to realize that unless you intend to lose, you should not engage in any small or large argument with Jim Kirk. So I denied him an answer, "Good day Mr. Kirk." As I gather my things and turn towards the door, I catch the brilliant grin on his lips any how. If I had answered, either way, Kirk would have seen a victory and I really shouldn't encourage him…

Even after all those cumbersome notes and their frequency, I was a little surprised when they ceased to arrive at my personal quarters, my office, the stairwell I take to and from class, and attached to various trifles and bobbles. Naturally, my curiosity on the matter was purely academic. As Jim Kirk had stated himself, these notes had been certain evidence that I could trust my lectures had sunk into the right frame of mind. Unfortunately, not only am I uncertain to the absorbency of my teachings in Jim Kirk's hyperactive and understated mind-but completely uncertain as to the cadet's whereabouts at all since last Thursday morning. He has been absent from my classes, and tardy to all others. If this is his way of working up to success, he has poorly organized his lesson plan. Not only has he missed one of the most important lectures of this term, but also ceased to inquire upon my notes or ask for the work assigned after each class he misses.

But even if he has missed three organized classes in the past week, he did manage to appear in my auditorium to partake in my mid-week exam. Upon grading his exam, what I mistook for mere doodles of an absent mind turned out to be, upon further examination, a full diagram of magnetophydrodynamic relativistic jets about the planet Romulus. The lines were shaky, but well mapped out and controlled in their paths. The diagram took up one whole back page of the test and there were some smudged figures scribbled in hurried handwriting towards the bottom. After holding it up to the light, I noted that they were the calculations and mathematical equations dealing with a time flux from a rift in space. For what reason he was working on these details is beyond me, since each question on the exam have nothing to do with these topics what so ever. Could he be indulging in a little humor of his race? If so, I have failed once again to find the punch-line.

I mulled over this little inconsistency for an hour or so before I ran over the calculations again. That is when I noticed the mistake. A simple one really, and a common mistake. But if Mr. Kirk was hoping to impress me with his memory, he has failed in that regard. One does not measure these values in decimal form, for you will run into constant overlapping and fruitless hours spent circling the right answer with the wrong ones.

My communicator chirps suddenly from my pocket and I draw it out into the light to read the message running across the screen. The signature is blocked with a private code, but it reads, 'Think again.' Glancing at the page in my hand, I ignore the curiosity blooming in my mind as to how I know this message is from Jim Kirk, and how he could possibly know I am examining his test at this moment. Instead, I entertain an idea I had pressed aside as illogical a half hour ago.

Folding the packet in half, I pick up my communicator and switch it over into a gravitational positioning system and check the coordinates of my apartment with the first value in the table at the bottom of the page. It is simply a few marks off, so I move outside and close the door behind myself as I move downstairs. After going a few hundred yards in the correct direction, I look again at the diagram of the relativistic jets and find they make a perfect map for the direction I am going.

Walking across campus, I hardly notice my surroundings as I watch my coordinates and compare them with the values on the page over and over again. How Jim Kirk could organize something to this degree certainly puts him in a different category than I had judged him to hold before.

"Fascinating…" Standing exactly in place of the last coordinate, I peer through the hole in the fencing and recognize the meadow Jim Kirk had shown me earlier this year. Stepping across the threshold of this quiet space and into knee high grass, I cast my gaze across my surroundings until my eyes fall upon the figure propped up against the tree in the yard. It isn't difficult to recognize the tousled and unruly hair of Jim Kirk in the sunshine as he is bent over a thick textbook in his lap. My other foot snaps a twig on the ground and draws his attention suddenly, as well as his shining smile.

"Professor Spock!" Pushing his textbook off onto the blanket he sits on, Kirk glides to his feet and motions to his obvious set up. "You came." He clasps his hands together in a thankful fashion, "You've no idea…how much I appreciate that! Here," he gestures at the blanket at his feet, "take a seat, will you? I could really use your help, you know? I figured, since you offered some tutoring earlier last week, I'd take you up on it."

"I offered my assistance under the assumption it would be in an academic environment…I find your means of propositioning my help rather unnecessary, Mr. Kirk." I arch a brow and fold my hands behind my back, hoping to succeed in pressing my seriousness upon him. No matter how his methods impressed me, it was unasked for.

"Prop-…'propositioning'?" He laughs, his sandy hair falling across his forehead. "You make it sound like I'm asking you for 'coitus'." He air-quotes his fingers around the word 'coitus', as I have seen his human classmates and that Orion girl do on occasion. "All I'm asking for is some understanding here. You think you could do that? Please?" He sits, his back up against the tree trunk once more. His eyes implore me from below and I can feel myself caving, after all, he is a student asking for my tutelage.

Taking a seat on the quilted blanket, I begin explaining the complexities of the current chapter his textbook is flipped open to while he listens and asks questions. The sun has begun to recede over the neighboring hilltop by the time I notice the peculiar shade of red rimming Jim Kirk's eyes. He rubs them and addresses the same question he has been repeating for the last half hour and trying to understand.

"So you're telling me…that no matter the mass of a, that…whachamacall-it." He waved his hand at the photograph on the side-panel of his textbook, "It will always, and ultimately-retain the same amount of discharge as a comet at every speed, every amount of pressure…and in any atmosphere."

I suppress a sigh and lean forward to flip through the pages to a past chapter, starting my explanation from a different point of origin. "That is _not_ what I am saying, Kirk." Opening my mouth for another long-winded and futile attempt to explain the inner workings of my past lecture to him, I tilt my head to look at him over my shoulder, and fall still. Jim Kirk, silent through the beginning of my near speech breakdown of this theory, has unconsciously or subconsciously shifted closer to peer over my shoulder at the text on the page. Our eyes connect instantly, his blue eyes hooded in a seductive manner and his lips parted. His gaze shifts down towards my own mouth as I part the seam of my lips and run my tongue along my bottom teeth.

There is no doubt in my mind at this moment that there is a strong magnetism between Jim Kirk and myself, the kind of dragging pull that causes me to make the conscious decision to lean forward. There is a sharp intake of breath, whether from myself or Kirk is undetermined. His eyes flutter shut as do my own as we close the distance between our quivering lips. Only the action does not become complete and I feel a heavy weight against my arm instead as soft blonde hair brushes the side of my face. Blinking, I look down to find Kirk leaving heavily against my forearm and slowly sliding down it, his body completely limp.

"Mr.-…Jim?" I slide an arm about the front of his shoulders and pull him up from my lap. His head drops back and a soft snore issues past his lips. My cheeks are hot and I could curse for my lapse in control. But I cannot help but admit to myself…that I do feel a little disappointment that he had not meant to kiss me but was only falling into a comatose state of mind as his overworked body and brain shut down.

Sighing aloud, I stand and ease Jim onto his side on the quilt. Pressing his textbook into his arms, he folds in around it and presses his chin against the edge. How odd a thing to see, a student cradling an astrophysics textbook. "Kirk?" I stoop and shake him by the shoulder a little, but he doesn't so much as stir. Glancing about, I notice a chill along the air and know I cannot possibly leave him out here to miss curfew and perhaps catch cold. So, wrapping him in his quilt and shouldering his backpack, I take it upon my sense of responsibility for the wellbeing of all students on campus-not just Jim Kirk; and slide my arms beneath his knees and shoulders to carry him back to his dorm room.

However, I did not foresee the kind of looks and glances I would incur with the sight we made. I am fairly convinced that it is Jim Kirk's uncanny luck that grants me passage to Jim Kirk's dormitory without crossing paths with another faculty member. With my arms full of a certain slumbering person, I have to knock on the door to his dorm room with my elbow and hope his roommate resides within. After some grumbling and a barked 'whaddya want?', I am given the slight satisfaction of seeing the surprise on Cadet McCoy's face as I jerk my chin at the bunk bed in my line of sight past his shoulder.

"Oh, uh, sure. Go ahead, Professor Spock." He makes haste to scramble backward, dragging the door open wider so I can angle Kirk's long form through the doorway and set him bundled on his bed. Swinging his messenger back from my shoulder, I deposit it on the floor beside him and awkwardly stand there a moment at a loss of what to do next. Pulling down the front of my uniform, I clasp my hands firmly at the small of my back and give Cadet McCoy a curt nod. "You speak of this and I fail you." Exiting out into the hallway, I hear a muttered 'hot damn, he's done it' from the doctor's mouth before the door closes.


	12. Zugzwang

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Alright, I know you guys are probably about ready to slit my throat, since this was long coming to you guys. But I've got college now and a full time job. D: I know, I know…no excuse. But believe me, the guilt is intense… By the way, the title of this chapter is German for when a player is put at a disadvantage in chess by having to make a move; where any legal move weakens the position. Zugzwang usually occurs in the endgame, and rarely in the middlegame.

Absolute Pin

Chapter 12

"Oh Spock, I knew you would eventually come to me." I murmur, snuggling his firm body to mine, my arms tightly wrapped around his lean body. I can feel him all around me as well, warm and encompassing. I nuzzle the sharp edge of his shoulder and plaster my lips to his skin, licking a trail down his chest and opening my eyes to find…

My text book. I was just getting to third base with my Astrophysics text book. Squinting in the dim light of my dorm room, I roll over and chuck the thing onto the floor, fighting my way out of the blanket I've been burritoed in. How the hell did I get back here anyway? Wasn't I studying just a moment ago? Wasn't Spock just trying to explain to me the complexities of his last lesson? Squinting at the clock on the desk, I note that it's about eight in the evening. And there's a crazy-eyed figure staring at me from where he's sitting on the opposite bunk.

"You li'l weasel." Bones smirks, his hands folded and hanging between his knees. "I don't want no gory details, but did ya get 'im? What'm I saying, of course ya got 'im… he carried ya here for crissake."

From the heaviness of his Georgian accent, I can safely assume Bones has consumed a rather tasteful amount of that Romulan ale in our fridge. "What're you talking about?" I mutter at him, working to remove my outer uniform jacket and the regulation grade undershirt.

"That hobgoblin, who else?" Bones flutters his hands about in exasperation and starts up that nervous neck rubbing. "Finally find yer way back inta his good graces?"

Spock? He carried me back to the dorms? God, I can only imagine the stares we must have gotten. I grin at the thought and pause to think about the last moments I remember of our study session. I remember he was trying, in vain, to explain the answer to my question again and he had pointed to a diagram in my text book… I leaned in to take a look and he turned his head because I must have startled him. But… wait, everything stops there. I remember his expression and my lips curl upward in an impossible smile.

Bones scowls, "Now I don't want no details, don't make me pull yer tongue out through yer ass." Grumbling, he gets up to return to whatever self-inflicted punishments he was doing before I woke.

I follow him to his desk and coo, "You mean you don't wanna hear the hopeful glance in his brown eyes? I don't know what he was thinking, but he didn't seem to reject how close I was."

"Nah-ah-ah!" Bones whirls around and wobbles a little, flicking a finger in my face, "Kid, don't make me pull out the Georgian rage!"

Grinning, I press, "You think I could'a kissed him Bones?" I slap his fist away from my arm and weave back and forth on my toes in excitement, "You think we could have fucked under that tree?"

Okay, so Bones isn't as slow as I thought he would be while drunk… in fact, he's got a pretty mean right hook. He didn't even seem to care that he left me sprawled out on the carpet for the rest of the night.

* * *

The next morning was full of the usual dumb ass-kissing up until I slipped into the Astrophysics auditorium where I witnessed a rather slipshod lecture delivered by a distracted Vulcan. It wasn't that he was too busy staring at me, like I thought he might. But instead, he didn't look at me once through the whole class, and I congratulate him on that, since I was sitting front and center on the first row closest to his desk. His eyes would flit over me and he would always call on someone else to answer his questions, even if no one answered correctly and I was the last hand standing. I witnessed an irate Uhura silently fume in her seat, shooting daggers into my skull from three seats back. At one point, Spock had actually paused for longer than normal with his eyes off to the side, as if he had forgotten his line of thought. But he eventually picked up seamlessly, passing his moment of silence off as a pause in the lecture for us to reflect.

When the parting bell sounded and everyone rose to leave, I gathered my things and was about to flaunt myself over to his desk when I felt a pair of nails digging into my left bicep as Uhura dragged me out into the hall. "Hey, hey, hey, easy on the merchandise!" I snap as she whirls on me and fixes me with her steely bitch glare.

"What, can't take a hint, farm boy?" She hisses, shoving my shoulder, "I told you to keep your scummy paws out of Spock's life!"

Grinning, I shrug, "Guess he just wants more Uhura, I can't control what another man wants."

Caught off guard, Uhura just dips her chin and makes that 'I can't believe you are so conceited' look. Folding her arms across her big, Bantu chest, she scoffs, "He doesn't want you Kirk, he wants you to leave him alone!"

I mimic Spock's arched brow and fold my arms as well, "Has he told you that himself, or is this just your own witch hunt? What are you, his personal body guard? You'll need to grow another foot in order to take me on."

She fumes at me a moment and I take the chance to interject matter-of-factly, frowning, "Did you know… your red shirt goes well with your eyes right about now."

"You are completely illogical; there is no way a Vulcan could ever stand you for longer than it takes to shoot himself in the head!" She tries to shove me again and I take a quick step back to watch her stumble awkwardly forward. Her anger actually leaps out at me and I shudder a little.

"Phew, did it get cold in here or is it just bitches on ice I got tickets to?" Smirking, I let her poke me hard in the chest with an accusing finger.

"Next time you shave, try standing an inch or two closer to the blade." She growls before turning and stalking away, her pony tail practically slapping me in the face.

"Yeah, well…I heard that you went to the haunted house and they offered you a job!" I shout after her, scowling as she flips me the bird over her shoulder.

* * *

I feel kind of like the scarecrow off of the Wizard of Oz or something, because I can't wipe this brainless grin off my face. Shit, those flying monkeys are fucking creepy… Okay, that helped. Reaching up, I knock heavily on the door to Christopher Pike's apartment door, a six pack tucked under my arm.

"Jim, you made it." Pike answers, standing back from the door to usher me in with a sweep of his hand, "Good thing too, you're dealer."

Taking a beer from my six pack, I twist the cap off and take a sip, setting the rest on the kitchen counter. "Oh yeah? None of you guys know how to count?" Smirking, I go around the corner into the dining room where Pike and his friends have gathered for a little poker game. It's mostly professors from the university, but then there are a few of the admiralty as well and a fellow ship captain Pike has known for years. I lift my beer in greeting as I sit down, picking up the cards and shuffling them like a regular casino hand, dealing the chips as well.

We're about ready to start when the doorbell goes off and Pike heaves a sigh and pushes himself to his feet. "Don't start without me guys, I counted my chips too." He warns with a smile.

We all start talking about the latest scores posted by the local sports team when Pike returns with another guest following behind like a guard dog. "I apologize for my tardiness Captain, but there were a pair of adolescents on your street who were rather adamant that I give them alcohol."

Shit. I look up and stare at that bowl-cut head and we both freeze for a moment. Spock looks just as dumbstruck and Pike glances between us and breaks the moment with a clap of his hands, "Well, seem there's no need for introductions then."

Spock takes a seat in the only empty chair between Pike and Dr. Piper, the C.M.O. of Pike's ship.

Pike looks at his near shell shock, which really is only a stiffening of the shoulders, but for a Vulcan, is rather noticeable by someone like Pike. "Here, have a beer." He hands Spock a brew from my six pack and sits back down, glancing around the table, "Should I recount my chips and check my cards?" A chuckle rises from the group and Pike smirks at me, satisfied that he's broken whatever odd tension arrived with the last member of the group. "Dealer?"

"Right," I blink, throwing a few chips out there into the center of the table and sitting back. Here, I thought I was going to be spending a relaxing evening playing some harmless poker with Pike's friends. But who knew Vulcans played poker too? You would think they frowned upon gambling, wasn't it illogical?

After a while, we start to run out of chips since Spock seems to have acquired most of them. So we start to make verbal bets or write down numerical figures on pieces of paper to throw in the pot. In the last game, I have a crap hand but bluff my way through everyone folding. Spock has his brow arched over at me from across the table as I smirk and lean back in my chair, three beers doing a good job of relaxing me. "I see you… and raise you…" I think for a moment and grin, "Cleaning your apartment. That is, if you can beat my hand."

Spock glances at his cards and a corner of his mouth twitches, something he has been doing a lot tonight since he drank that beer…and a scotch. Who ever said Vulcans were unaffected by alcohol obviously hadn't taken into account a half Vulcan, because Spock was thoroughly warmed. He leaned in his own chair and hung an arm over the back, holding his cards against his chest. "And if I win?" He deadpans.

"Oh, I don't know…I'll clean it for a month." I muse.

"Six months." Spock's reply is quick, almost like he's testing me, his eyes sharp.

Frowning, I eye him, "Three." I concede.

"Five point five months." Spock haggles.

With wide eyes I lean forward and lean my arm against the edge of the table, ignoring the confused glances from the others, "Five and I'll throw in laundry." How the hell did he get me up to five months? It's that damn voice, I swear…

"You have a deal, Mr. Kirk." Was that smugness in those Vulcan brown eyes?

"And what do _I_ get if _I_ win, huh? You'd better give me an 'A' with those kinds of stakes." The boys grin and chuckle, shaking their heads. Pike folds his hands behind his head, watching out banter.

"You will not win, Kirk," this time, he does smile, laying his cards against the table to reveal a royal flush. I gape, watching him pull the last of the chips and pieces of paper into his pile.

"Who invited the Vulcan?" Someone mutters.

"Shit, you planned that." Sulking, I throw down my crappy hand.

"Give him a break, Spock." Pike chuckles; draining the last of his beer. "You can count the cards."

"A deal is a deal Captain, and someone should teach Kirk not to go back on his word." Spock gathers the cards and places them back into their box, brows angled in amusement that also shows in his dancing eyes.

"He's just a cocky kid; he didn't know who he was up against." Pike slams me on the shoulder.

"Hey!" I shrug him off.

"Then he should have folded." Spock begins to count his chips without pause, having a seamless focus with numbers and the ability to speak at the same time.

"Hey! Jesus, I'll do it, I'll clean your apartment and do your stinking laundry. I had nothin' anyway… you guys all folded to total shit." I grin, standing up and stretching, feeling the blood rush to my feet, leaving me light-headed.

All the other guys stand too, handing some credit chips to Spock for whatever they owed. "Hey, thanks for coming guys, maybe we'll make Spock play blindfolded next time." Pike grins, showing his guests out into the hall outside his apartment. The others walk in a group but I stay to talk to Pike for a moment.

"You enjoyed yourself, huh?"

Pike laughs and pats my arm good-naturedly, "You got hoodwinked by a Vulcan for sure, son." He shakes his head and disappears back into his apartment.

Glancing down the hall, I feel my head spin a little and I close my eyes for a moment to clear my vision. I really should have drawn the line at two beers tonight. Moving down the stairs, I catch up to Spock who has fallen back from the rest of the professors, probably preferring to be alone. As I near him, I don't know what possesses me, probably the buzz I'm riding. But I reach out and grasp his arm, turning him into the wall outside Pike's apartment building.

"Kirk-" His brown eyes flicker down the street at the other professors in the distance, nervously looking from me to them. "What are you doing?"

I brace an arm against the wall by his head and murmur, "You didn't mind me bein' close yesterday…" I feel him stiffen, his hands lifting away from his sides, looking torn between pushing me away or grasping the front of my shirt. "You might think I didn't see it… but I saw." I whisper into one of those deliciously pointed ears, grazing my nose along his soft, black sideburn. "I saw the look in your eyes."

"Jim," It's not an admission, but a warning and I draw back to gauge the glance he gives me, looking down at his lips tinged a light green and parted slightly.

"You wanted something," I tilt my head some and let the breath leaving my lips as I speak brush against his lips, "is this what you wanted?" Before I lose my nerve or Spock decides to fucking nerve pinch me, I slot our mouths together, feeling a dam give way to something far greater than me. A swell of blind passion and hot desire bubbles up from inside me and I gasp against Spock's lips, tasting their alien flavor. The kiss is like a hot desert; spicy and dry. I hold the sides of his face in my hands as I deepen the kiss and he allows me, hungrily exploring the depths of his mouth, fighting a dangerous battle with his tongue. A gruff sound escapes him and I think it might be a moan so I press myself up against him, pushing him into the brick wall and slide my hands up into his impeccably groomed hair. But I must have run out of coins or something for he shuts down and roughly tears his mouth from mine, shoving me away so hard that I nearly fall on my ass on the pavement, only to catch my balance on a parking sign. We're both panting, eyes wild.

"You have crossed the line, Kirk!" Spock hisses, his teeth flashing as he speaks. But I catch a flicker of fear in those brown, human eyes just before he turns and stalks away from me, his legs making long and clipped strides.

I rub my jaw, which feels like he'd slapped it, his chin having slammed into it when he broke our kiss. Smirking to myself, I straighten and watch his stiff back disappear into the gloom. "I've got you now…"


	13. Breakthrough

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there… _

Author's Note:

Holy crap, it never ceases to amaze me how fast you guys get on my updates. I posted chapter twelve last night and in the first minute I got ten hits and got my first reviews this morning. It's really encouraging, thank you! Plus, everything just looks better with chocolate frosted yellow cake…

Oookay, so I'm taking the story in a whole different direction than I had originally planned…but I think this is a better path down the yellow brick road, I hope you think so too. 3

By the way, I also don't own the lyrics of a singular Adam Lambert.

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!**

Absolute Pin

Chapter 13

I awoke to the impatient sound of the rain outside my window, rousing from a restless sleep, my mind plagued by conflicting thoughts and sensations. Last night had been the first time in twenty-one point three eight years that I had experienced such a horrible clash of uncontrolled emotion. Naturally, one would assume the spirits in my system had not helped my ability to reign in such strong bouts of fear, frustration, and yes…I admit; desire.

After Cadet Kirk's personal and intimate attack outside my captain's home, I had returned immediately to my on-campus quarters, grateful that the person responsible for my breach in control had not endeavored to gain another audience with me. It took a full one point five hours to sort through the thoughts and feelings in my head. But to my horror, upon opening my eyes, they simply returned, bringing warmth to my person and a data chip full of questions. After forcing myself into sleep, I experienced dreams of a disturbing nature.

Now, standing before my bathroom mirror, there is simply no logical explanation for why I can still feel the shape and texture of Cadet Kirk's lips and the pressure they had exerted upon my own. Distracted by my own inner musings, I had nearly forgotten the boon I had won over Cadet Kirk until a firm knock upon my front door disturbed me from my morning tea. Pausing, the sound came again and I rose to answer curiously, dragging the chain from the lock.

"Phew, thought you weren't home for a second and I was gonna be bummed cuz then I was going to have to run all the way back through the rain!" Kirk's cheerful voice made my temple throb and a sinking realization as I remember what he was here upon my doorstep for. "Well… are you gonna let me in or what?" He grins.

Now I am beginning to wonder what kind of a prize it was for me to have Kirk clean my apartments. Was it he or I that had won? Stepping back, I grant him nonverbal permission into my inner life again. He swaggers inside with that usual laid back curiosity he possesses and runs his hand through his rain-darkened locks, shrugging his leather jacket off. I am about to relieve him of it when he turns and opens the closet door without a second thought and hangs his own coat up.

"I don't have any morning classes today and I looked up your schedule and noticed you didn't either, so I figured now was a good time as any to come clean up for you. Just let me at your cleaning supplies and you won't even notice I'm here."

Pursing my lips, I wordlessly lead him to my bathroom and pull open the cabinets beneath the sink to show him the merit of cleaning supplies in my possession. He thanks me and rubs his hands together, seeming to enjoy his newfound standing.

Leaving him in the bathroom, I return to my tea, which has grown cold in my absence. Sighing, I pour it down the sink, having lost my appetite for it. I can hear him banging around beneath the sink and force the concern out of my mind and decide that if a grown Terran cannot manage to clean an apartment, then they would not be in Starfleet. Sitting down to a datapad of work, forty-seven minutes and eighteen seconds pass uneventfully and I have just made the decision that perhaps these five months of our deal won't be so bad when a soft noise reaches my sensitive ears from the half closed door of the bathroom.

Kirk is passing the time singing, and upon looking up, I can make out his reflection in the mirror of his bobbing head, a pair of ear-bud headphones in his ears attached to a tiny device clipped onto the collar of his shirt. He cleans according to the beat of whatever song he is listening to, unable to hear how loud he is singing over the instrumental noise in his ears. Surprisingly, he is on tune. "So hot out of the box, can we pick up the pace, turn it up, heat it up, I need to be entertained. Push the limit, are you with it? Baby don't be afraid, imma hurt you real good baby." He emerges out into the living area with a rag and starts to dust the surfaces and objects in the room. My eyes flick back down to my work but I am acutely aware of his presence and the words he is singing, humming in the places he has forgotten the lyrics. "Let's go… do what I say. Don't trip off the- mmm that I'm gonna display. I told you, Imma hold ya down until you're amazed. Give it to ya til you're screamin' my name!" He swaggers over to the coffee table before me and bends down to dust it, a loose lock of his hair falling across his brow. My eyes unconsciously roam down his posterior before I force them back to my work, lamenting this invasion of my personal space…to a degree.

"Oh! I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet. You thought an angel swept you off your feet. But I'm about to turn up the heat, I'm here for your entertainment." Kirk straightens and moves around the sofa to clean the kitchen. Suddenly, I can feel his eyes on me and I know he is preforming this stunt to get inside my head. I suppress a shudder, realizing in disgust the lack of progress I've made in my work.

"'Sall right, you'll be fine, baby I'm in control. Take the pain, take the pleasure, I'm the master of both. Close your eyes, not your mind, let me into your soul. I'm gonna work it 'til your totally blown." Glancing at the chronometer beside me, I begin to seriously hope he has almost finished for today, for I do not know how much more of this constant distraction I can take. However, his voice does fade with what must have been the end of whatever song he was listening to. Finally focusing back on my work, I look down at the datapad in my lap which has powered down into an energy saving cycle. I tense at the reflection I see there and turn my head to look up at Kirk where he stands behind me.

"Hey, sorry," he pulls his headphones out of his ears and braces his hands along the back of the couch, consciously invading my space. "Would you happen to have anything to clean your windows with?"

"That will not be necessary, Kirk."

"Nonsense, look at them, they're filthy." Grinning, he returns to the bathroom to find something suitable to use on my perfectly clean windows. Once he finishes that task, he disappears down the hall, making me uneasy with the length of time he spends in my bedroom. Frowning, I rise to find what has drawn him from his train of thought and discover him sorting my laundry on the floor into darks and lights.

Straightening up, Kirk smiles his infectious grin, "Sorry, I'm almost done, I'll just take these down to the laundry room for you and hang out down there until these are done. Oh," he glances down at his own white shirt, scowling at the spots he's found staining the fabric, "would you mind if I tossed this in with your whites?" Glancing up at me, he hardly waits for a reply before stripping the thin shirt off over his head and tossing it on top of the light pile. I confess, I found myself briefly analyzing the build of his torso, finding it aesthetically appealing. But no matter my open glance, it hardly garnered the question he asks me as he bags up my laundry, "Why don't I throw in that shirt for you, huh? Might as well, you keep it pretty warm in here." He smirks, holding out his hand for the shirt I am currently wearing.

Arching a brow, I fold my arms behind my back and square my shoulders, "Please, Kirk, it is not quintessential that you wash every surface, object, and article in my apartment. I only require that you make sure everything is tidy."

"You look untidy." He replies bluntly, catching me off guard due to his blatant impoliteness and bold standing.

"Pardon?"

"Take off your shirt, it's dirty, see?" He takes a few steps in my direction, pointing at the front of my shirt, causing me to glance down and scrutinize it only to find it in order.

"Kirk-"

"Just take the damn thing off, it's not like I'm a man-whore, what are you afraid of? C'mon, I'm doing you a favor." Kirk's hand closes around the shoulder of my shirt and I stiffen, snatching his wrist and holding it firmly away from my side. He reaches with his other hand and I catch it as well and a miniature struggle of sorts commences until I have both his arms up from his sides, his hands fisted up by his head.

"This is absurd and illogical Kirk, please just finish the job we agreed on and leave." I huff.

"Not until I win!" Smirking, he turns those ocean blue eyes on me charged with an electrical determination. Tipping his weight forward, he throws himself against me, causing my shoulder blades to collide with the opposing wall of my quarters. I am fairly certain fighting students is against faculty policies and rules but I would rather face an inquiry than let him have his way and amuse himself with a victory while divesting me of my pride and modesty. I am not completely ignorant of the methods a human male goes about seducing their mates. Something I had read about in the curious book about Terran cultural and physical attributes.

Kirk struggles against my superior strength, the effort shaking in his arms as he fights to keep them aloft while I work to force them down. It takes little time for me to be successful and I ask for his compliance once more, his only reply being an arrogant grin. Leaning his forehead against mine, he takes a moment to catch his breath. Then, looking me straight in the eye, he cleverly tilts his hips forward and pins me between the wall and my morals. My breath stops in my throat and my expression must give him some satisfaction for he smiles triumphantly.

"I'll let you go if you give me your shirt." He bargains.

"I will not." I stand firm, managing a hard stare and a blank face.

"Suit yourself." His warning was valid, for his torture is of a particular nature. Kirk's eyes are clouded by lust and I can very nearly taste his breath as I fans across my bottom lip, his gaze intent on mine. He shifts one of his legs before the other and leans his weight into me once more, his thigh nudging up against my genitalia. He forces a shuddery breath from my lips and I internally chastise myself for the slip in control. But Kirk is no amateur in the knowledge of how to play one's body. My grip as gone slack on his wrists and he takes the advantage, pressing my arms up against the wall to either side of me and savagely grinding his pelvis against my own. His hands squeeze mine and I jerk in response, winning a look of surprise. Obviously, he is not aware of a Vulcan's sensitivities.

"Maybe it'd be easier for you to agree to a date…rather than losing your shirt?" Kirk questions in a teasing tone and lets his lips wander an exploratory trail down my jawline, licking a curious line up the outer rim of my ear. Giving an involuntary shudder, I arch my back in an attempt to regain some semblance of authority over this cadet, trying to buck him off.

"My answer is still a very," I twitch under the weight of his thigh buried between my legs, gritting my teeth and hissing, "firm no."

Kirk chuckles, "You seem torn between your mind, your morals, and your body." He takes the pointed tip of my ear between his teeth, creating a singular kind of sensation of which I have never experienced. Focusing my eyes on a point over his shoulder, I fight against his weight, ignoring the discomfort he has brought to me in order to free my arms and strive to push him away. But he clings to me like a Rigelian marsupial, his hands finding holds in the front of my shirt and the waistband of my trousers.

I can begin to feel the tear in my restraints lengthen, the past emotions of this morning trickling into my consciousness, past the disciplines of my meditations. My first instinct is to panic as I feel this one human being has managed to break the very center of what I live and strive for. The adrenaline of my fear strengthens me and I pry him from myself, holding him out at arm's length, my body sticky with perspiration caused by our close proximity and our struggles. Kirk's eyes fall to the front of my regulation trousers, a sly grin turning up one corner of his mouth.

"You're really too adorable when you look like this…" He murmurs heatedly, knotting his hand into the front of my T-shirt. Pulling me from the wall, he exploits my lapse in discipline to drag me into another one of those soul sucking kisses. The roughness of his hands as they untuck my regulation undershirt from my trousers accompanied by such a bruising intimacy is like no other experience in my memories. The soft, cool texture of his lips as they pry mine apart puts me in a momentary daze. Grasping the sides of his head, I curiously allow some of that attraction to muddy the waters of my mind, giving into that human side of me that has found Jim Kirk to be fascinating and captivating. Is this uncontrolled state of mind what humans experience every moment of their lives?

Jim's hands are cooler than my own body temperature and cause me to shiver as they find their way beneath my clothes, mapping the expanse of my chest and stomach muscles. Venturing an inquisitive taste of his lips, he draws my tongue into his mouth and groans around it. I feel a tremor course through his body like the calm before a storm. His nails claw through the dark hair across my chest and I lean into the wall once more. How strange that each touch seems easy and every kiss bleeds into the next. I can feel the rampage and simplicity of his thoughts speeding through his mind between my hands, words and images. More, want, need, feel, warm, hot, hotter, god so sexy. He projects such a strong image of us entered into coitus that I draw back in shock of such a carnal image. His hand has crawled down to the crux of my legs, administering a constant arousing pressure. With the both of us gasping for breath, Jim peers up at me from between my encompassing hands and whispers, "I can feel you… all of you." And from those simple words, I can configure the meaning behind them. A chill runs down my spine as I realize there is more than just raw attraction between Jim Kirk and I. Clearly… there is far more understanding. He must have seen something in my eyes that indicated my shock for his actions pause and he frowns. "Spock…? Are you alright?"

Closing my eyes, I gently push his hands from my body, "You must leave. Please." The perfect structure of my mind seems disjointed and unstable now, suffering from my lapse in judgment and in need of repair. With the both of us equally disheveled and the laundry forgotten upon the floor, I am cast back into the reality of our positions. Kirk is my student, I am his professor. Kirk has shown an obsessive nature in pursuing me and I have allowed it for far too long. But now he has forced me to taste the release of emotion. How raw these moments were, I cannot even tell how long exactly, my sense of time is altered.

"Spock…" He touches my cheek and I turn my head, avoiding his angelic eyes. "Tell me what's wrong, we'll fix it. Please?" Begging me now, Kirk grasps my chin and forces me to look upon him. The submission was sweet for a while, but now the aftermath is devastating. Am I to build my walls around myself once more and protect myself from the strong and unchained emotions of this man before me? Do I value my logical ordered mind over the intense flame I can feel burning just below the surface of my relations with Jim Kirk? Would my exposure to his mind drive me insane? There have been instances of my people being mated with a human being. There have also been studies about how those marriages have fallen apart. It would be impossible to remain detached from such a strong relationship potential with Jim Kirk.

"Spock…?" His hesitant voice draws me from my reflections and I make the decision. Raising my hand, I place my long fingers against his face upon his meld points.

"Do you trust me, Jim?" I murmur.

His eyes large and round in the dim light of my room, he nods. "Yeah… 'course I do."

Closing my eyes, I brace myself for the worst and speak the introductory words, "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…" My voice echoes between our neighboring consciousness, _'Let us think as one.'_ There is a rush, like the feeling of an anti-grav simulator, and then Jim's thoughts. His mind reaches tentatively out to mine, bright and pure like the breaking of dawn over the Vulcan Forge. Jim's mind caresses mine; curious, concerned, and in awe.

'_Holy shit…'_ His inner voice is much like his speaking, a tenor and clear like a cloudless sky. He explores the surface of my mind, drawn to the echo of our past actions, experiencing his ministrations through my body; experiencing my arousal, my vivid sights, smells, and tastes. His own senses are blunt compared to my own, but different nonetheless and something new to touch upon. The strength of my emotions overwhelms him for a moment as I reach out to him, a feeling of familiarity already present in a strange mind. _'This is fucking awesome…'_ Jim allows me deeper into the vast pool of his mind, searching for that something I know must be present. How else could I explain such a strong surge of emotion around this being, strong enough to break through my years and years of meditative controls?

A comfort of home surrounds me in the calm presence of Jim Kirk. I can feel my physical body, like something apart from me but also connected-enfold itself protectively about Jim's own form. Drawing myself out of the meld, I let Jim's mind recede from mine and open my eyes. Jim is curled into the shape of my body, his head resting upon my shoulder, my arms about his shoulders, his twined around my waist. His breathing is shallow and light, eyes still closed. "T'hy'la." I whisper, a desperate need to hold onto the cherished rarity that Jim Kirk has become to me rises in my chest. How blind I've been…

* * *

/Author's Note: Sorry, there weren't any other character exposure in this chapter, but I hope it pleased nonetheless. =] R&R!/


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